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Just keep following my tears, and the brook will take you in.
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Forewarned is forearmed.
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For the first thing a proprietor learns, and painfully at that, is: Trust is fine, but control is better.
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First the masters died, now their music is dying, because people only want to listen to pop, rock, and punk.
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For the eyes are the mirror of the soul and ought to remain unscathed if at all possible. Otherwise people will suppose the soul is done for.
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Of course, art turns many people away for there has to be a limit. The limits between the gifted and the ungifted.
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When discussing Bach’s six Brandenburg concertos, the artistically aware person usually states, among other things, that when these masterpieces were composed, the stars were dancing in heavens. God and his dwelling place are always involved whenever these people talk about Bach.
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Pain itself is merely a consequence of the desire for pleasure, the desire t destroy, to annihilate; in its supreme form, pain is a variety of pleasure.
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Sometimes, of course, art creates the suffering in the first place.
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Art is not a Trojan horse.
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There are no holidays for art; and that’s just fine with the artist.
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The criteria of art are the imponderable, the immeasurable.
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Don’t start anything you can’t finish.
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Every child instinctively heads toward dirt and filth unless you pull it back.
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The artist is lonesome and admits his solitude.
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I have a feeling that you despise your body and that you only value art, you only value your argent needs, but eating and sleeping aren’t enough. You believe that your appearance is your enemy, and the only friend you have is music. Why look just in the mirror, look at your reflection, you’ll never find a better friend that yourself.
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Better to wear worn shoes than to polish the boots of shop owner.
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Art and order, the relative that refuse to relate.
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Der Sensible muß verbrennen, dieser zarte Nachtfalter.
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nothing comes of nothing after all.