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    The first great works of art we know, the paleolithic cave paintings at Altamira and Lascaux, make brilliant use of the three-dimensional surfaces that were the givens of the creative situation. The positioning and attitudes of the animals were suggested, even necessitated, by the bulges, golds, crevices, and jagged textures of the rock walls on which they were made. Some of the power of these paintings resides in the way the painters were able to create a mutual adaptation between the shapes of their spiritual imagination and the shapes of hard rock.
    One rule that I have found to be useful is that two rules are more than enough. If we have a rule concerning harmony and another concerning rhythm, if we have a rule concerning mood and another concerning the use of silence, we don't need any more. The unconscious has infinite repertoires of structure already; all it needs is a little external structure on which to crystallize. We can let our imaginations flow freely through the territory mapped out by a pair of rules, confident that the piece will pull together as a definite entity and not a peregrination.