“All creative art is magic, is evocation of the unseen in forms persuasive, enlightening, familiar and surprising.”

It’s extraordinary how we go through life with eyes half shut, with dull ears, with dormant thoughts. Perhaps it’s just as well; and it may be that it is this very dullness that makes life to the incalculable majority so supportable and so welcome.

The sea has never been friendly to man. At most it has been the accomplice of human restlessness.

What makes mankind tragic is not that they are the victims of nature, it is that they are conscious of it.

In order to move others deeply we must deliberately allow ourselves to be carried away beyond the bounds of our normal sensibility.

I have wrestled with death. It is the most unexciting contest you can imagine.

It’s only those who do nothing that make no mistakes, I suppose.

We live in the flicker — may it last as long as the old earth keeps rolling! But darkness was here yesterday.

Kisses are the remnants of paradise.

He struggled with himself, too. I saw it — I heard it. I saw the inconceivable mystery of a soul that knew no restraint, no faith, and no fear, yet struggling blindly with itself.

Reality, as usual, beats fiction out of sight.

I like what is in the work — the chance to find yourself.

I slipped the book into my pocket. I assure you to leave off reading was like tearing myself away from the shelter of an old and solid friendship.

There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery.

A word carries far, very far, deals destruction through time as the bullets go flying through space.

To have his path made clear for him is the aspiration of every human being in our beclouded and tempestuous existence.

The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.

Conquests will come and go but Delambre’s work will endure.

When you’re, like, 190 pounds, dark-skinned, and a new artist that no one really cares about, people don’t really take the time to make you look beautiful.

If the art of war were nothing but the art of avoiding risks, glory would become the prey of mediocre minds, I have made all the calculations; fate will do the rest.

We frustrate many designs against us by pretending not to see them.

Dining is and always was a great artistic opportunity.

I’ve totally learned in this process that 99% of the time, your gut is right, and you know what’s right for you. I know exactly what’s right for my career and for my art, and sometimes, even if the whole room is saying, ‘Don’t do that, don’t do that,’ you know that doing that is going to be good for you, in the long run.

The patriarchy continues to try to crush my neck with heavy boots, cut off my life force, and take away my voice – even those who call themselves artists, you know who you are.

Gray hair is gods graffiti.