A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession.
Alas, after a certain age every man is responsible for his face.
Ah, mon cher, for anyone who is alone, without God and without a master, the weight of days is dreadful.
Without freedom, no art art lives only on the restraints it imposes on itself, and dies of all others.
The only real progress lies in learning to be wrong all alone.
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