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Quote by Marcel Duchamp

“The life of an artist is like the life of a monk, a lewd monk if you like, very Rabelaisian. It is an ordination.”

Author

Marcel Duchamp, a French artist born on July 28, 1887, and died on October 2, 1968, was a pivotal figure in the history of modern art. He is known as one of the founders of Dadaism and his unique artistic vision and works have had a profound impact on contemporary art. more

“I have made a great discovery. I no longer believe in anything. Objects don't exist for me except in so far as a rapport exists between them and myself. When one attains this harmony, one reaches a sort of intellectual non-existence, what I can only describe as a sense of peace, which makes everything possible and right. Life then becomes a perpetual revelation. That is true poetry.”

Believe Made I Can Existence Objects Intellectual Discovery Harmony Revelations Perpetual Serenity Rapport Non Existence

Book:Georges Braque, 1882-1963: An American Tribute

Source: Georges Braque, 1882-1963: An American Tribute

“The only way to stave off boredom, in a complex domesticated primate like humankind, is to increase one's intelligence. This is not appealing to the average primate, who instead invents emotional games (soap opera and grand opera dramatics).”

Way Games Emotion Emotional Increase Complexes Average Boredom Opera Humankind Soap Soap Operas Primates

Author:Robert Anton Wilson

“It is not our exalted feelings, it is our sentiments that build the necessary home.”

Feelings Home Emotion Sentiments Exalted Emotions Feelings

Book:The Death Of The Heart

Source: The Death Of The Heart

“If you would have me weep, you must first of all feel grief yourself.”

Ifs Feels Firsts Literature Grief Emotion

Book:Horace on the Art of Poetry: Latin Text, English Prose Translation, Introduction and Notes, Together with Ben Jonson's English Verse Rendering

Source: Horace on the Art of Poetry: Latin Text, English Prose Translation, Introduction and Notes, Together with Ben Jonson's English Verse Rendering

“We find nothing easier than being wise, patient, superior. We drip with the oil of forbearance and sympathy, we are absurdly just, we forgive everything. For that very reason we ought to discipline ourselves a little; for that very reason we ought to cultivate a little emotion, a little emotional vice, from time to time. It may be hard for us; and among ourselves we may perhaps laugh at the appearance we thus present. But what of that! We no longer have any other mode of self-overcoming available to us: this is our asceticism, our penance.”