Art is a kind of illness.

Inspiration is an awakening, a quickening of all man's faculties, and it is manifested in all high artistic achievements.

. . . colors like a flourish of trumpets or pianissimo on the violin, great, calm, oscillating, splintered surgances . . . . Is this not form?

Inspiration is an awakening, a quickening of all man's faculties, and it is manifested in all high artistic achievements.

Cold calculation, random spots of color, mathematically exact construction (clearly shown or concealed), drawing that is now silent and now strident . . . . Is this not form?

There are some centuries which - apart from everything else - in the art and other disciplines presume to remake everything because they know how to make nothing.