“Reason is a supple nymph, and slippery as a fish by nature. She had as leave give her kiss to an absurdity any day, as to syllogistic truth. The absurdity may turn out truer.”
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Creation destroys as it goes, throws down one tree for the rise of another. But ideal mankind would abolish death, multiply itself million upon million, rear up city upon city, save every parasite alive, until the accumulation of mere existence is swollen to a horror.
The business of art is to reveal the relation between man and his environment.
Since obscenity is the truth of our passion today, it is the only stuff of art - or almost the only stuff.
I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts, or my thoughts the result of my dreams.