Banal words function as a feeble phenomena that fall into their own mental bogs of meaning.

Cultural confinement takes place when a curator imposes his own limits on an art exhibition, rather than asking an artist to set his limits.

A vacant white room with lights is still a submission to the neutral. Works of art seen in such spaces seem to be going through a kind of esthetic convalescence.

Instead of causing us to remember the past like the old monuments, the new monuments seem to cause us to forget the future

Art history is less explosive than the rest of history, so it sinks faster into the pulverized regions of time.

Museums are tombs, and it looks like everything is turning into a museum.

A work of art when placed in a gallery loses its charge, and becomes a portable object or surface disengaged from the outside world.

Artists themselves are not confined, but their output is.

Nature does not proceed in a straight line, it is rather a sprawling development.

Establish enigmas, not explanations.

I am for an art that takes into account the direct effect of the elements as they exist from day to day apart from representation.

You've got an awfully kissable mouth.

I grew up with the classics. My mom and I would sit and watch 'Singin' in the Rain' and 'White Christmas' - those kind of movies.

When I make my drawings... the path traced by my pencil on the sheet of paper is, to some extent, analogous to the gesture of a man groping his way in the darkness.

The ordinary man looking at a mountain is like an illiterate person confronted with a Greek manuscript.

Everything good proceeds from enthusiasm.

Just as the light and weightless vegetation of saltpeter floats over the old walls of houses as soon as the owner gets careless, so the literary vocation springs up in you.

That's what they do to whatever I was - 19 or something. You're the baby hooker. You can ask any woman my age and we've all played baby hookers.

My family is from Russia and Poland. We never had that thing with the German Jews.

If you have not clung to a broken piece of your old ship in the dark night of the soul, your faith may not have the sustaining power to carry you through to the end of the journey.

Smells are so powerful and evocative, sometimes stronger than visual cues.