There’s so much ‘expression’ today you can’t hear the real problems. Maybe we switch tasks. To trust our current exhibitions can do their job. It is worth a try. A generation sacrificing their pride to save the future. Granted, our art is needed and could reveal our faults, but do evil men watch movies? Something soon must die. To trust the future will take care of itself is to deny an obvious and necessary revolution.

We are our own art. If everything else fails, it’s all we have. And that’s pretty great.

Withhold your trust from the critics, the scholars, the writers, the award-winners, the showrunners, because they will write about crime and decorate their art with crime, and it will bring you to tears, but identification of a burning building does not extinguish a fire. Knowing what is right doesn’t make us right. It makes us responsible.

If no one says the obvious, we’ll never know where we are.

Humans were walking wounds and sometimes, they shared.

Surely we can take anything we want from anything, but to interpret a work as whatever we’d like is to fill in someone’s careful recipe with all of our old ingredients. You can still eat it, but you’ll always wonder why every new thing tastes the same.

Beneath the nice book cover, camera angles, format of the page, size of the canvas, sound of the song – was someone with something to say.

All singers now sound the same because all you have to do is whisper and sound pretty. No one ever belts. Don’t you wanna hear someone’s heart again?" she said. "All I hear is tongue and breath and cheek and throat. I want ugly again. Mistakes. Uvula.

She wrote novels on paper napkins. Sometimes she scribbled on newspapers that the men in suits left behind and made her own poetry with the crossword templates on the back. She wouldn’t make a penny writing. If anything, she was losing pennies. That’s why they trust her art. Her poor, dirty, beautiful art.