It Is The Eye Of Ignorance That

It Is Useless To Advise Solitude For Everyone; One Must Be Strong Enough To Endure It And To Work Alone.

Night Is Here. All Is At Rest. My Eyes Close In Order To See Without Actually Understanding The Dream That Flees Before Men Infinite Space; And I Experience The Languorous Sensation Produced By The Mournful Procession Of My Hopes.

Civilization Is Paralysis.

Many People Say That I Don't Know How To Draw Because I Don't Draw Particular Forms. When Will They Understand That Execution, Drawing And Color (in Other Words, Style) Must Be In Harmony With The Poem?

Beautiful Colors Exist, Though We Do Not Realize It, And Are Glimpsed Behind The Veil That Modesty Has Drawn Over Them.