I Am My Own Muse.

... There Is A Skeleton (or Death) That Flees Terrified In The Face Of My Will To Live.

I Have Never Expected Anything From My Work But The Satisfaction I Could Get From It By The Very Fact Of Painting And Saying What I Couldn't Say Otherwise.

To Feel The Anguish Of Waiting For The Next Moment And Of Taking Part In The Complex Current (of Affairs) Not Knowing That We Are Headed Toward Ourselves, Through Millions Of Stone Beings - Of Bird Beings - Of Star Beings - Of Microbe Beings - Of Fountain Beings Toward Ourselves.

I Had Something In My Throat. It Felt Like I Had Swallowed The Whole World.

I Tried To Drown My Sorrows, But The Bastards Learned How To Swim, And Now I Am Overwhelmed By This Decent And Good Feeling.