The world is arranged in such a way that the daftest sayings have their truth, and if a man thinks that’s enough, it’s by no means enough. Man supposes, God disposes, and the jug goes to the well every day til it breaks.
“I want the thing itself. The reality of a work of art is no symbol, no imitation either of outer or inner Nature. It doesn’t imitate the pulse of the heart. It is its own self; it has its own pulse. Otherwise everything would be an imitation in relation to something. Perhaps that’s so: This something is God. Only I don’t like the word imitation.”
Anton Webern