An artist is an artist only because of his exquisite sense of beauty, a sense which shows him intoxicating pleasures, but which at the same time implies and contains an equally exquisite sense of all deformities and all disproportion.
“Training is full-on. Some days I really don't want to get out of bed and hit that track again. Sunday and Monday morning sessions are always horrible. But who really looks forward to going to work on a Monday morning?”
“In their work, then, as in their play, men and women are more and more coming to share with each other as comrades, and really the fun of life seems in no wise diminished as a consequence.”