Misery is manifold. The wretchedness of the earth is uniform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch; as distinct too, yet as intimately blended.
“Art lost its basic creative drive the moment it was separated from worship… It severed an umbilical cord and now lives its own sterile life, generating and degenerating itself… Today the individual has become the highest form and the greatest bane of artistic creation.”
Ingmar Bergman