How terrible and foul to squander time by seeking money. What could be worse than giving up your existence to earn such filthy lucre? Look at the poverty here. You die if you don’t have dollars.

Worse still is not the quick fire destruction, but instead the smouldering decay of endless days, lost in a lifeless, thoughtless, meandering of day to day.

Everything relies on the idea. The idea is paramount. The idea is all powerful. Art is the vanguard of developments in thoughts and ideas.

It’s that feeling like vertigo of being on the edge of the precipice, suffering the fear of the void into which one might fall. We are damnedly balanced on the thread, with the great voluminous despair beneath us and the terrible fate of knowing that the love of beauty can never be satisfied.