Beauty Depends On Purpose. It

If People Knew How Hard I Worked At My Art, They Would Not Consider Me A Genius.

There Is No Greater Harm Than That Of Time Wasted.

There Is An Angel Imprisoned In It And I Must Set It Free.

Dear To Me Is Sleep: Still More, Being Made Of Stone, While Pain And Guilt Still Linger Here Below, Blindness And Numbness--these Please Me Alone; Then Do Not Wake Me, Keep Your Voices Low.

Good Painting Is The Kind That Looks Like Sculpture.