art [Theme]

So... Do I love you?

Another day of spring. If only humanity would blossom, common sense would blossom, the shoots of change would rise and ripen to fruition. I never stop believing in miracles, but in essence this is what saves me.

The art of love is inherent in each of us, it opens like a bud under the rays of the sun.

We multiply what we find aesthetically pleasing: a vase, a painting, a bowl, a poem. We recreate an object in order to preserve it, to prolong its existence in time and space. Admiring what you like - a fresco, a snow cap glowing at sunset on a mountain top, a boy with a mole on his cheek - means recreating this image, continuing it in your gaze, multiplying it, prolonging it.

Dishonest art stinks.

Art is not what and why, but how and for how much.

It is harmful to lie down under a subpoena. Fighting it is even more harmful. The skill of the artist is to use it correctly.

Art sells better if it has an optimistic ending. A corrupt (in a good commercial sense) artist will definitely try to pull it onto the grinning skull of existence.

A piece of heaven lives in every person, and art is to reveal its light.

Life is the art of finding joy in the little things.

Life is the art of accepting change with an open heart.

The art of being happy lies in the ability to find beauty in simple things.

The kitchen teaches us that mistakes can be the most delicious lessons. In life, wisdom is the art of turning failures into juicy successes.

Art has fallen. High virtues, greatness of spirit, everything that can lift and elevate a person are rare. Everything, either a caricature invented to be funny, or a fictitious monstrous passion close to intoxication, to which the author tries with all his might to give the right of citizenship, constitute the content of modern plays.