“Like God, art seemed to hover over us, perhaps benevolent, and often sublime, but constantly, maddeningly out of reach.”

“Like God, art seemed to hover over us, perhaps benevolent, and often sublime, but constantly, maddeningly out of reach.”

“Like God, art seemed to hover over us, perhaps benevolent, and often sublime, but constantly, maddeningly out of reach.”

“Maybe the point of life (and youth, once it was over), was to elevate yourself, through time and reflection, into something worthy of contemplation (even if you were the only one doing the contemplating).”