In this there is no measuring with time, a year
doesn’t matter, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn’t force its sap, and stands
confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that
afterward summer may not come. It does come. But
it comes only to those who are patient, who are there
as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent
and vast. I learn it every day of my life, learn it with
pain I am grateful for: patience is everything.
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