Who Questions Much, Shall Learn

This Is Certain, That A Man That Studieth Revenge Keeps His Wounds Green, Which Otherwise Would Heal And Do Well.

I Should Have Been, I Don't Know, A Con-man, A Robber Or A Prostitute. But It Was Vanity That Made Me Choose Painting, Vanity And Chance.

Above All, Believe It, The Sweetest Canticle Is Nunc Dimittis, When A Man Hath Obtained Worthy Ends And Expectations. Death Hath This Also, That It Openeth The Gate To Good Fame, And Extinguisheth Envy.

The Creative Process Is A Cocktail Of Instinct, Skill, Culture And A Highly Creative Feverishness. It Is Not Like A Drug; It Is A Particular State When Everything Happens Very Quickly, A Mixture Of Consciousness And Unconsciousness , Of Fear And Pleasure; It's A Little Like Making Love, The Physical Act Of Love.

The World's A Bubble, And The Life Of Man, Less Than A Span.