Art Lives On Constraint And Dies Of

If People Knew How Hard I Worked At My Art, They Would Not Consider Me A Genius.

Lord, Grant That I May Always Desire More Than I Can Accomplish.

However Rich I May Have Been, I Have Always Lived Like A Poor Man.

With Few Words I Shall Make Thee Understand My Soul.

I Already Have A Wife Who Is Too Much For Me.. She Is My Art, And My Works Are My Children.