Make Chance Essential.

I Want To Be As Though New-born, Knowing Nothing, Absolutely Nothing. Then I Want To Do Something Modest; To Work Out By Myself A Tiny, Formal Motive, One That My Pencil Will Be Able To Hold Without Technique.

He Has Found His Style, When He Cannot Do Otherwise.

My Hand Has Become The Obedient Instrument Of A Remote Will.

Colour Has Taken Hold Of Me; No Longer Do I Have To Chase After It. I Know That It Has Hold Of Me Forever. That Is The Significance Of This Blessed Moment

One Eye Sees, The Other Feels.