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If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.
Civilization will not attain to its perfection until the last stone from the last church falls on the last priest
“I have but one passion: to enlighten those who have been kept in the dark, in the name of humanity which has suffered so much and is entitled to happiness. My fiery protest is simply the cry of my very soul.”
Blow the candle out, I don't need to see what my thoughts look like.
I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don't care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity.
The past was but the cemetery of our illusions: one simply stubbed one's toes on the gravestones.”
There are two men inside the artist, the poet and the craftsman. One is born a poet. One becomes a craftsman.
Everything is only a dream.
Dreyfus is innocent. I swear it! I stake my life on it — my honor!
The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.
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