The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from every place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider web. (Pablo Picasso).
The great wine is a work of art in progress, never finally determined. It pretends immobility and is able to pass the time for several decades. Its purpose is to be drunk and disappear with the joy that it procures. And it’s sufficient that you have enough bottles in your cellar for the days of old age, and it gets for you the timelessness of sculpture and painting or the repetitive availability of music and poetry. (Emile Peynaud)