“Nothing is worth more than laughter. It is strength to laugh and to abandon oneself, to be light. Tragedy is the most ridiculous thing.” ― Frida Kahlo Guillermo Davila: Frida Kahlo, 1929
“Instead of stubbornly attempting to use surrealism for purposes of subversion, it is necessary to try to make of surrealism something as solid, complete and classic as the works of museums.” ― Salvador Dalí Salvador Dalí et son Buste, 1974
“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depths of some devine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.” ― Alfred Tennyson Memories John White Alexander – circa 1903
“Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while.” ― W.B. Yeats Hope and memory Kenyon Cox – 1900
“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.” ― Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis Portrait Franz Kafka by Andy Warhol.
“We live as we dream–alone….” ― Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness and the Congo Diary Alone Emilio Longoni – 1900
I sit beside the fire and think Of all that I have seen Of meadow flowers and butterflies In summers that have been Of yellow leaves and gossamer In autumns that there were With morning mist and silver sun And wind upon my hair I sit beside the fire and think Of how the world will be When winter comes without a spring That I shall ever see For still there are so many things That I have never seen In every wood in every spring There is a...
“Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: – you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.” ― E.E. Cummings Christian Rohlfs, Dancing around the Ball of the Sun, 1916
Evening Slowly the evening puts on the garments held for it by a rim of ancient trees; you watch: and the lands divide from you, one going heavenward, one that falls; and leave you, to neither quite belonging, not quite so dark as the house sunk in silence, not quite so surely pledging the eternal as that which grows star each night and climbs- and leave you (inexpressibly to untangle) your life afraid and huge and ripening, so that it, now bound in and now embracing, grows alternately stone...