Can One Invent Verbs? I Want To

... There Is A Skeleton (or Death) That Flees Terrified In The Face Of My Will To Live.

My Paintings Are Well-painted, Not Nimbly But Patiently. My Painting Contains In It The Message Of Pain. I Think That At Least A Few People Are Interested In It. It's Not Revolutionary. Why Keep Wishing For It To Be Belligerent? I Can't. Painting Completed My Life. I Lost Three Children And A Series Of Other Things That Would Have Fulfilled My Horrible Life. My Painting Took The Place Of All Of This. I Think Work Is The Best.

Since My Subjects Have Always Been My Sensations, My States Of Mind And The Profound Reactions That Life Has Been Producing In Me, I Have Frequently Objectified All This In Figures Of Myself, Which Were The Most Sincere And Real Thing That I Could Do In Order To Express What I Felt Inside And Outside Of Myself.

There Have Been Two Great Accidents In My Life. One Was The Trolley, And The Other Was Diego. Diego Was By Far The Worst.

Can One Invent Verbs? I Want To Tell You One: I Sky You, So My Wings Extend So Large To Love You Without Measure.