Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow i

Oh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the marrow in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us, and chucks us aside. Alas! – David Herbert Lawrence

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The soul of the artist is oppressed by the atmosphere of the counting-house. – Franz von Dingelstedt, Die Amazone: Novelle, 1869, translated from German by J.M

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Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures. – Henry Ward Beecher

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An art which isnt based on feeling isnt an art at all. – Paul Cezanne

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When art dresses in worn-out material it is most easily recognized as art. – Friedrich Nietzsche

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