The What Is So Much

Art Is To Be Admired Rather Than Explained. The Jargon Of These Sculptors Is Beyond Me. I Do Not Precisely Know Why I Admire A Green Granite, Female, Apparently Pregnant Monster With One Eye Going Around A Square Corner.

I Would Hold The Rosy, Slender Fingers Of The Dawn For You.

All Great Art Is Born Of The Metropolis.

The Serious Artist Must Be As Open As Nature. Nature Does Not Give All Of Herself In A Paragraph. She Is Rugged And Not Set Apart Into Discreet Categories.

The Concept Of Genius As Akin To Madness Has Been Carefully Cultivated By The Inferiority Complex Of The Public.