5 from marcel duchamp

I have forced myself to contradict myself in order to avoid conforming to my own taste.

Painting is a language of its own. You cannot interpret one form of expression with another form of expression.

What art is, in reality, is this missing link, not the links which exist. It’s not what you see that is art; art is the gap.

In the midst of each epoch, I fully realize that a new epoch will dawn.

Words such as truth, art, veracity, or anything are stupid in themselves.

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