“Art is to look at not to criticize.”

If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.

False hope is nicer than no hope at all.

I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

We loved with a love that was more than love.

The true genius shudders at incompleteness – imperfection – and usually prefers silence to saying the something which is not everything that should be said.

It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.

A lie travels round the world while truth is putting her boots on.

All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.

The death of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, the most poetical topic in the world.

With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.

We had always dwelled together, beneath a tropical sun, in the Valley of the Many Colored Grass.

As a poet and as a mathematician, he would reason well; as a mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned at all.

I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.

Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.

At the end of the day, I just do my job. I love my art. But I genuinely want to change the world. I’m very generous, and I really want people to see that I am – that’s really it.

Your life can become the background for the art you create.

I feel I have a responsibility to myself, a responsibility to explain where we’re coming from. Because a song or the performance of a song is a lot like a work of art.

If you work at rap and look at it as an art, the money will come. But if you try to get the money, it’ll just always be shallow.

I don’t know why people expect art to make sense. They accept the fact that life doesn’t make sense.

Boxing’s in my genes. I come from a fighting background. My dad and both my uncles were good boxers. I’m blessed with the art of war.

Despite my extremely modest prices, dealers and art lovers are turning their backs on me. It is very depressing to see the lack of interest shown in an art object which has no market value.

Today, I painted with blood.