Chaos is the score upon which reality is written.
When into the womb of time everything is again withdrawn chaos will be restored and chaos is the score upon which reality is written.
Once you have given up the ghost, everything follows with dead certainty, even in the midst of chaos.
When I reflect that the task which the artist implicitly sets himself is to overthrow existing values, to make of the chaos about him an order which is his own, to sow strife and ferment so that by the emotional release those who are dead may be restored to life, then it is that I run with joy to the great and imperfect ones, their confusion nourishes me, their stuttering is like divine music to my ears.
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