I Think I'm Less The Writer Than

I'm A Hopeless 19th-century Romantic.

The Trouble With You, Vic," He Said, "is That You Think Of The World As A Sort Of Huge Museum With Too Many Visitors Allowed In.

All One Wants To Do Is Make A Small, Finished, Polished, Burnished, Beautiful Object . . . I Mean, That's All One Wants To Do. One Has Nothing To Say About The World, Or Society, Or Morals Or Politics Or Anything Else. One Just Wants To Get The Damn Thing Done, You Know? Kafka Had It Right When He Said That The Artist Is The Man Who Has Nothing To Say. It's True. You Get The Thing Done, But You Don't Actually Have Anything To Communicate, Apart From The Object Itself.

We Artists Love To Talk Tough, But We're Just As Sentimental As Everyone Else When It Comes Down To It.

I Shall Strip Away Layer After Layer Of Grime -- The Toffee-colored Varnish And Caked Soot Left By A Lifetime Of Dissembling -- Until I Come To The Very Thing Itself And Know It For What It Is. My Soul. My Self.