La Mort N'est Que Pour Les Me

The Work Of Art Is A Stuffed Crocodile.

Applause That Comes Thundering With Such Force You Might Think The Audience Merely Suffers The Music As An Excuse For Its Ovations.

We Shall Not Have Succeeded In Demolishing Everything Unless We Demolish The Ruins As Well. But The Only Way I Can See Of Doing That Is To Use Them To Put Up A Lot Of Fine, Well-designed Buildings.

The Theater, Bringing Impersonal Masks To Life, Is Only For Those Who Are Virile Enough To Create New Life: Either As A Conflict Of Passions Subtler Than Those We Already Know, Or As A Complete New Character.

Talking About Things That Are Understandable Only Weighs Down The Mind.