The human heart is like the sea: it has its storms, its tides, and its depths; in it, too, there are pearls.

The sun himself is weak when he first rises, and gathers strength and courage as the day gets on.

Sometimes you have to lose yourself to find yourself.

The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life.

Art is the language of the unspeakable.