The graphic artist is like a blackbird that sings in the treetop. Again and again he repeats his song, complete in every copy he makes. The more copies people ask him to make, the better he likes it. He hopes likes it. He hopes the wind will spread his leaves over the earth, the farther the better – not like dry leaves in autumn but rather like feather-light seeds capable of germinating.
                                                                                                                                                   M.C. Escher