A guilty conscience needs to confess. A work of art is a confession.
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Without freedom, no art art lives only on the restraints it imposes on itself, and dies of all others.
From the same author
We get into the habit of living before acquiring the habit of thinking. In that race which daily hastens us towards death, the body maintains its irreparable lead.
Men are convinced of your arguments, your sincerity, and the seriousness of your efforts only by your death.
For centuries the death penalty, often accompanied by barbarous refinements, has been trying to hold crime in check yet crime persists. Why? Because the instincts that are warring in man are not, as the law claims, constant forces in a state of equilibrium.