You sought to preserve your creative instincts and what would nourish them. But neurosis itself does not nourish the artist, you know; he creates in spite of it, out of anything, any material given to him. The torments and hells of [crazy men], are not for you.

Poverty is the great reality. That is why the artist seeks it.

perhaps the only magician we have is the artist.

Most artists have retired too absolutely; they grow rusty, inflexible to the flow of currents.