The Artist Is A Member

Melancholy And Remorse Form The Deep Leaden Keel Which Enables Us To Sail Into The Wind Of Reality; We Run Aground Sooner Than The Flat-bottomed Pleasure-lovers But We Venture Out In Weather That Would Sink Them And We Choose Our Direction.

Like Those Crabs Which Dress Themselves With Seaweed, We Wear Belief And Custom.

An Aesthetic Movement With A Revolutionary Dynamism And No Popular Appeal Should Proceed Quite Otherwise Than By Public Scandal, Publicity Stunt, Noisy Expulsion And Excommunication.

The Civilization Of One Epoch Becomes The Manure Of The Next.

There Is No Pain Equal To That Which Two Lovers Can Inflict On One Another.