All Spiritual Journeys Are Martyrdoms

I Only Fear The Death Of Others. For Me, True Death Is That Of The People I Love

I Am Burning Myself Up And Will Always Do So.

I Shall Never Forget What I Saw At The Museum Of Modern Art: In A Spotless Schoolroom, Fifty Little Girls Painting Away At Tables Covered With Brushes, Pots, Tubes, Bowls, Staring Into Space And Sticking Out Their Tongues Like The Clever Animals That Ring A Bell, Tongues Lolling And Eyes Vague. Teachers Supervise These Young Creators Of Abstract Art And Slap Their Wrists If What They Paint Represents Something And Dangerously Inclines Toward Realism. The Mothers - Still At The Picasso Stage - Are Not Admitted.

An Artist Cannot Speak About His Art Any More Than A Plant Can Discuss Horticulture.

Celebrity: I Picture Myself As A Marble Bust With Legs To Run Everywhere.