Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness. The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is. Every child is an artist. the challenge is to remain an artist once he grows up. saturday found him for the first time strolling alone through zurich, breathing in the heady smell of his freedom. new adventures hid around each corner. The future was again a secret. Read more
Freedom lies in being bold. when i get a little money, i buy books; and, if any is left, i buy food and clothes. it’s strange that words are so inadequate. yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words. in our struggle for freedom, truth is the only weapon we possess. if you do not tell the truth about yourself, you cannot tell it about other people. the feeling of sunday is the same everywhere: heavy, melancholy, standing still. like when they say, ‘as it was in the beginning. Read more
Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness. The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is. Every child is an artist.
All art is quite useless. one can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar. words do not express thoughts very well. they always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.
He had a word, too. love, he called it. but i had been used to words for a long time. i knew that that word was like the other, just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn’t need a word for that any more than for pride or fear. Read more