A Man Paints With His Brains And

I Am A Poor Man And Of Little Worth, Who Is Laboring In That Art That God Has Given Me In Order To Extend My Life As Long As Possible.

Good Painting Is The Kind That Looks Like Sculpture.

Critique By Creating.

My Beard Towards Heaven, I Feel My Nape Support / The Back Of My Head, I Grow The Breast Of A Harpy / And My Brush As It Drips Continually / Upon My Face, Makes It A Gorgeous Floor.

I Cannot Live Under Pressures From Patrons, Let Alone Paint.