I Remember From My Father's Funeral That

Perhaps Art Is A Quest For The Perfect, Or Even The Imperfect. Reality Always Falls Short On Both Sides.

Artists Are The People That No Matter What, Pick Up The Pen, Pick Up A Paintbrush. They Take The Time To Translate What Is Happening To Create Something That Resonates Deeply With The Rest Of The People That Are Caught In The Middle Of Their Own Reality.

Each Person Has A Literature Inside Them.

Probably The Person Who Said The Only Color In Los Angeles Is Green Was Right.

I Am Not Myself; I Am The Potential Of Myself.