Let the artist show his world, the beauty that was born with him, that never was before and never will be again.
Words are not in the power of men; men are in the power of words. Every time we open our mouths, a thousand dead men speak through us.
Man screams from the depths of his soul; the whole era becomes a single, piercing shriek. Art also screams, into the deep darkness, screams for help, screams for the spirit. This is Expressionism.
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