Do You Think It's Possible

A Stupid Person Can Make Only Certain, Limited Types Of Errors; The Mistakes Open To A Clever Fellow Are Far Broader. But To The One Who Knows How Smart He Is Compared To Everyone Else, The Possibilities For True Idiocy Are Boundless.

In Our Memories, There Is A Graveyard Where We Bury Our Dead. They All Lie There Together, The Loved Ones And The Ones We Hated, Friends And Foes And Kin, With No Distinction Among Them. We Have To Mourn Every One Of Them, Because Our Memories Have Made Them As Much A Part Of Us As Our Bones Or Our Skin. If We Don't, We've No Right To Remember Anything At All.

The Tools Are Real. The Viewer Is Real, You, The Artist, Is Real And A Part Of Everything You Paint. You Connect Yourself To The Viewer By Sharing Something That Is Inside Of You That Connects With Something Inside Of Him. All You Have As Your Guide Is That You Know What Moves You. All You Have To Do It With Is A Brush, Some Chemical And Canvas, And Technique.

I'd Rather Be Running The Game Than Playing It.

I'm Told I'm Very Charming When People Do What I Want.