“History is an endless repetition of the wrong way of living.”
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The richest love is that which submits to the arbitration of time.
I had become, with the approach of night, once more aware of loneliness and time - those two companions without whom no journey can yield us anything.
Like all young men I set out to be a genius, but mercifully laughter intervened.
For us artists there waits the joyous compromise through art with all that wounded or defeated us in daily life in this way, not to evade destiny, as the ordinary people try to do, but to fulfil it in its true potential - the imagination.
