The Work Of Art Is The Exaggeration

To Understand Is Nothing, But To Be Understood-that Is The Problem And The Source Of Anguish. The Soul Throbs And Would Have The Other Know-but Can Not And Feels Isolated. Then Come Gestures, Words, Awkward Explanations And Material Symbols For Imponderable Outbursts Of Feeling-and The Soul Despairs.

The Individual Never Asserts Himself More Than When He Forgets Himself.

Sin Is Whatever Obscures The Soul.

The Belief That Becomes Truth For Me... Is That Which Allows Me The Best Use Of My Strength, The Best Means Of Putting My Virtues Into Action.

Don't Think That Your Truth Could Be Found By Someone Else.