In A Fire, Between A

All I Can Do Will Only Ever Be A Faint Image Of What I See And My Success Will Always Be Less Than My Failure Or Perhaps Equal To The Failure.

Only Reality Interests Me Now And I Know I Could Spend The Rest Of My Life In Copying A Chair.

The Older I Grow, The More I Find Myself Alone.

What I Am Looking For Is Not Happiness. I Work Solely Because It Is Impossible For Me To Do Anything Else.

If I See Everything In Gray, And In Gray All The Colors Which I Experience And Which I Would Like To Reproduce, Then Why Should I Use Any Other Color?