A Forbidden Writing Is Thought

I Don't Think People Are Born Artists; I Think It Comes From A Mixture Of Your Surroundings, The People You Meet, And Luck.

Excusations, Cessions, Modesty Itself Well Governed, Are But Arts Of Ostentation.

It Is Impossible To Love And To Be Wise.

If A Man's Wit Be Not Apt To Distinguish Or Find Differences, Let Him Study The Schoolmen; For They Are Cymini Sectores, Splitters Of Hairs.

I Would Like My Pictures To Look As If A Human Being Had Passed Between Them, Like A Snail, Leaving A Trail Of The Human Presence And Memory Trace Of Past Events, As The Snail Leaves Its Slime.