The Sun Penetrates Me Soundlessly Like A

Painting Is Damned Difficult - You Always Think You've Got It, But You Haven't.

I Lack The Magnificent Richness Of Color That Animates Nature.

Sometimes I Imagine Colors As If They Were Living Ideas, Being Of Pure Reason With Which To Communicate. Nature Is Not On The Surface, It Is Deep Down.

A Work Of Art Which Did Not Begin In Emotion Is Not Art.

Is It The Factitious And The Conventional That Most Surely Succeed On Earth And In The Course Of Life?