It Means Nothing To Me. I Have

We Have A Definite But Unknown Quantity Of Experience At Our Disposal. As Soon As The Hourglass Is Turned, The Sand Will Begin To Run Out And Once It Starts, It Cannot Stop Until It's All Gone.

I Draw Like Other People Bite Their Nails.

We Artists Are Indestructible; Even In A Prison, Or In A Concentration Camp, I Would Be Almighty In My Own World Of Art, Even If I Had To Paint My Pictures With My Wet Tongue On The Dusty Floor Of My Cell.

If You Know Exactly What You're Going To Do, What's The Good In Doing It?

I Don't Think I'm Wrong When I Say That The Most Beautiful Objects Of The "stone Age" Were Made Of Skin, Fabric, And Especially Wood. The "stone Age" Ought To Be Called The "wood Age." How Many African Statues Are Made Of Stone, Bone, Or Ivory? Maybe One In A Thousand! And Prehistoric Man Had No More Ivory At His Disposal Than African Tribes. Maybe Even Less. He Must Have Had Thousands Of Wooden Fetishes, All Gone Now.