You Exist Only In What You Do.

Objects And Their Functions No Longer Had Any Significance. All I Perceived Was Perception Itself, The Hell Of Forms And Figures Devoid Of Human Emotion And Detached From The Reality Of My Unreal Environment. I Was An Instrument In A Virtual World That Constantly Renewed Its Own Meaningless Image In A Living World That Was Itself Perceived Outside Of Nature. And Since The Appearance Of Things Was No Longer Definitive But Limitless, This Paradisiacal Awareness Freed Me From The Reality External To Myself. The Fire And The Rose, As It Were, Became One.

I Spent My Life Trying To Cure Myself Of My Education.

If There Were A Little More Silence, If We All Kept Quiet...maybe We Could Understand Something.

There Is No Such Thing As A Good Paparazzo. A Good Paparazzo, That's A Paparazzo Who Has Had His Camera Broken. In Fact, They Are Bandits, Thieves Of Photography. (statement After Photographs Were Published Showing Jackie Onassis Sunbathing Nude.)

All Art Is Autobiographical; The Pearl Is The Oyster's Autobiography.