Beauty has no history, and every history of art is only a history of taste.
Religion, art, taste, and other delusions.
Nearly all great movies adhere quite rigidly to the conventions of a genre, nearly all movies that try not to do so are disasters, and so it is with lives.
The obscure artist awaits the verdict of posterity, unable to compete with the living, expecting to compete with the dead.
The land of the blind has a blind god to whom the one-eyed man is sacrificed.
To set up as an arbiter of good taste is in the worst taste possible.
We try to convince ourselves that villains are unhappy: it should be enough to know that they are bad.
A few facts about an artist’s life can, if you’re not careful, spoil his work for good.
There are atheists in foxholes, but not pacifists.
Fashion can be beautiful, but always by accident, and never for long.
The tinier the discipline, the less room for mediocrity. Miniatures have to be perfect.