Every Father Was His Own Man. He

An American Is A Guy, A Rich Guy With A Family, A Decent Guy With A Family With As Many Kids As He Likes, Doing What He Wants, Working With People That He Likes, And Enjoying Himself To His Very Old Age.

I Was An Artist, But Not A Self-proclaimed Great Artist, Just A Common Man Who Was Working In A Form Of Art Which Is Universal.

My Anatomy Was Self-taught. I Feel Everybody Has That Ability. I Drew Instinctively. Mine Was An Instinctive Style.

All Life On Earth Is Subject To The Rumbles And Rockings Of The Parent Stucture Which Has No Control Over The Disastrous Effects Of Its Stresses And Strains On Whatever Thrives On Its Surface. The Ambitions And Dreams Of Men Are Irrelevant To This Planetary Giant Which Pursues Its Own Way In Its Own Manner. Man Is Its Child, Tenant And Still, To This Date, Its Captive.

You Fought Fair. If The Other Guy Wants To Fight And You Knocked Him Out, You Did Your Best For Him. You Didn't Want To Hurt Him Any More.