All art is a revolt against man's fate.
If man is not ready to risk his life, where is his dignity?
You can only make art that talks to the masses when you have nothing to say to them.
The truth of a man is first and foremost what he hides.
The attempt to force human beings to despise themselves is what I call hell.
And when man faces destiny, destiny ends and man comes into his own.
Genius is not perfected, it is deepened. It does not so much interpret the world as fertilize itself with it.
To love a painting is to feel that this presence is ... not an object but a voice.
In so far as he is a creator, the artist does not belong to a social group already moulded by a culture, but to a culture which he is by way of building up.
No one can endure his own solitude.
One cannot create an art that speaks to men when one has nothing to say.
There are not fifty ways of fighting, there is only one: to be the conqueror.
Christ...an anarchist who succeeded. That's all.
In a world in which everything is subject to the passing of time, art alone is both subject to time and yet victorious over it.
Be careful -- with quotations, you can damn anything.
The only domain where the divine is visible is that of art, whatever name we choose to call it.
Communism destroys democracy. Democracy can also destroy Communism.
The artist is not the transcriber of the world, he is its rival.
The mind supplies the idea of a nation, but what gives this idea its sentimental force is a community of dreams.
Youth is a religion from which one always ends up being converted.
Between eigtheen and twenty, life is like an exchange where one buys stocks, not with money, but with actions. Most men buy nothing.
War puts its questions stupidly, peace mysteriously.
The great Christian art did not die because all possible forms had been used up; it died because faith was being transformed into piety. Now, the same conquest of the outside world that brought in our modern individualism, so different from that of the Renaissance, is by way of relativizing the individual. It is plain to see that man's faculty of transformation, which began by a remaking of the natural world, has ended by calling man himself into question.
An art book is a museum without walls.
Every creation is, at its root, the struggle between potential form and imitated form.
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