Art is a marriage of the conscious and the unconscious.
Art is not a pastime but a priesthood.
Art produces ugly things which frequently become more beautiful with time. Fashion, on the other hand, produces beautiful things which always become ugly with time.
Art is science in the flesh.
Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie.
A film is a petrified fountain of thought.
Film will only became an art when its materials are as inexpensive as pencil and paper.
Poetry is indispensable - if I only knew what for.
Art is science made flesh.
An artist cannot speak about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture.
The reward of art is not fame or success but intoxication: that is why so many bad artists are unable to give it up.
Art produces ugly things which frequently become beautiful with time.
One must be a living man and a posthumous artist.
Emotion resulting from a work of art is only of value when it is not obtained by sentimental blackmail.
The actual tragedies of life bear no relation to one's preconceived ideas. In the event, one is always bewildered by their simplicity, their grandeur of design, and by that element of the bizarre which seems inherent in them.
The poet never asks for admiration; he wants to be believed.
I shall never forget what I saw at the Museum of Modern Art: in a spotless schoolroom, fifty little girls painting away at tables covered with brushes, pots, tubes, bowls, staring into space and sticking out their tongues like the clever animals that ring a bell, tongues lolling and eyes vague. Teachers supervise these young creators of abstract art and slap their wrists if what they paint represents something and dangerously inclines toward realism. The mothers - still at the Picasso stage - are not admitted.
Look out! Be on your guard, because alone of all the arts, music moves all around you.
The only work of art which succeeds is that which fails.
The job of the poet (a job which can't be learned) consists of placing those objects of the visible world which have become invisible due to the glue of habit, in an unusual position which strikes the soul and gives them a tragic force.
The ultimate politeness in art consists of speaking only to those who are able to uncover and measure its relationships. Anything else is symbolic, and symbolism is merely transcendental imagery.
Appreciation of art is a moral erection, otherwise mere dilettantism.
The artist is a kind of prison from which the works of art escape.
Lying is the only art form that the public sanctions and instinctively prefers to reality.
The art of genius is knowing how far out is too far.
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