Art imitates nature as well as it can, as a pupil follows his master; thus it is a sort of grandchild of God.

Art is our chief means of breaking bread with the dead.

If we pretend to respect the artist at all, we must allow him his freedom of choice, in the face, in particular cases, of innumerable presumptions that the choice will not fructify. Art derives a considerable part of its beneficial exercise from flying in the face of presumptions.

Nowadays three witty turns of phrase and a lie make a writer.

All art is a revolt against man’s fate.