I Throw Fresh Seeds Out. Who Knows

Photographers, You Will Never Become Artists. All You Are Is Mere Copiers.

The Idea Of Beauty Which Man Creates For Himself Imprints Itself On His Whole Attire, Crumples Or Stiffens His Dress, Rounds Off Or Squares His Gesture, And In The Long Run Even Ends By Subtly Penetrating The Very Features Of His Face. Man Ends By Looking Like His Ideal Self. These Engravings Can Be Translated Either Into Beauty Or Ugliness; In One Direction, They Become Caricatures, In The Other, Antique Statues.

Dance Can Reveal Everything Mysterious That Is Hidden In Music

We Love Women In Proportion To Their Degree Of Strangeness To Us.

He Who Looks Through An Open Window Sees Fewer Things Than He Who Looks Through A Closed Window.