语言是一种皮肤：我用我的语言摩擦对方。就好像我有的是词语而不是手指，或者我的词语尖端有手指。
The soul that has conceived one wickedness can nurse no good thereafter.
The artist is the confidant of nature, flowers carry on dialogues with him through the graceful bending of their stems and the harmoniously tinted nuances of their blossoms.
Every exhibition is an experiment, a hypothesis about how art can engage with the world.
过去已成过去，但未来是一张白纸。