DUCHAMP, Marcel. The Writings of Marcel Duchamp. ed. Michel Sanouillet e Elmer Peterson. New York: Da Capo Press, 1989.

Sounds lasting and leaving from different places and forming a sounding sculpture which lasts. To lose the possibility of recognizing 2 similar objects 2 colors, 2 laces, 2 hats, 2 forms whatsoever to reach the Impossibility of sufficient visual memory, to transfer from one like object to another the memory imprint. Same possibility with sounds; with brain facts. (p. 31)

Can one make works which are not works of art? (p. 74)

In art there is no such thing as perfection. (p. 123)

Art is produced by a succession of individuals expressing themselves; it is not a question of progress. Progress is merely an enormous pretension on our part. There was no progress for example in Corot over Phidias. And abstract or naturalistic is merely a fashionable form o talking today. It is no problem: an abstract painting may not look at all abstract in 50 years. (p. 123)

My aim was a static representation of movement a static composition of indications of various positions taken by a form in movement with no attempt to give cinema effects through painting. () Reduce, reduce, reduce was my thought; but at the same time my aim was turning inward, rather than toward externals. (p. 124)Comment by Estudos: Aprender com o caminho da arte nos ajuda a encontrar o caminho de nos apreendermos a ns mesmos, esse virar-se para dentro rumo ao mistrio que existir tal como somos e no de outra maneira.

This is the direction in which art should turn: to an intellectual expression, rather than to an animal expression. I am sick of the expression stupid as a painter. (p. 126)

There are two kinds of artists: the artist that deals with society, is integrated into society; and the other artist, the completely freelance artist, who has no obligations. (p. 133)

I believe that art is the only form of activity in which man as man shows himself to be a true individual. Only in art is he capable of going beyond the animal state, because art is an outlet towards regions which are not ruled by time and space. To live is to believe; thats my belief, at any rate. (p. 137)Comment by Estudos: Complementa a idia do comentrio acima.

The more perfect the artist, the more completely separate in him will be the man who suffers and the mind which creates; the more perfectly will the mind digest and transmute the passions which are its material. [T.S. Eliot] (p. 138)

This choice [of the object] was based on a reaction of visual indifference with at the same time a total absence of good or bad taste In fact a complete anesthesia. (p. 141)