Our thoughts are not new. What we think, what we write, have been with us from the beginning of time.
Creativity allows many of us to express the same things, in different ways.
Creativity is our attempt to connect, just for an instant, to the original divine source.
I'm drawing a great deal and think it's getting better.
When superstition is allowed to perform the task of old age in dulling the human temperament, we can say goodbye to all excellence in poetry, in painting, and in music.
If art, all art, is concerned with truth, then a society in denial will not find much in use for it.
When one looks into the window of a store which sells devotional art objects, one can't help wishing the iconoclasts had won.
Humanity is the rich effluvium, it is the waste and the manure and the soil, and from it grows the tree of the arts.
Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.
I've just kept on ceaselessly painting in order to learn painting.
It's the duty of the writer, and indeed of all artists, to think long and deeply and to be able to drill down into those substrata so that these contents are released.
Within the antique frame, which so recently had inclosed a sable waste of canvas, now appeared a visible picture, still dark, indeed, in its hues and shadings, but thrown forward in strong relief.