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I do not mean realism in the repugnant, narrow sense that it has acquired today but rather the sentiment that external reality is an object of strong desire or need, as a possession and potential means of fulfillment of the striving human being, and is therefore the necessary ground of art.
Meyer Schapiro on Van Gogh, as quoted by James Wood in The Broken Estate.

I’m convinced that I live on the most beautiful street in all of the world, but I love flying anyway. It’s the most magical, strange thing. Here I go!

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