I Know What I Like—i Like Art—and

There's Something Fascinating About Seeing Something You Don't Like At First But Directly Know You Will Love—in Time. People Are That Way, All Through Life. You Come Against A Personality, And It Questions Yours. You Shy Away But Know There Are Gratifying Secrets There, And The Half-open Door Is Often More Exciting Than The Wide.

There Comes A Time In Life When You Know What You Like And Have To Make Up Your Mind To Like What You Know, Or At Least Have Begun To Know. In Other Words, You Must Determine In What Direction Your Knowledge Is Leading, Thus Far.

Art Is Excitement Which If We Can't Create Ourselves, We Can At Least, Through Love Of It, Make Available To Others.

One Thing Is Certain: The Arts Keep You Alive. They Stimulate, Encourage, Challenge, And, Most Of All, Guarantee A Future Free From Boredom. They Allow Growth And Even Demand It In That Time Of Life We Call Maturity But Too Often Enter It With A Childish Faith That What We Learned In Youth Is Sustenance Enough For The Years When Most Men Are Mentally Famished But Won't Admit It—or When They Are Apt To Curb Their Hunger With The Sops Of Complacency, Security, And The Assurance Of Death.

We Exponents Of Horror Do Much Better Than Those Method Actors. We Make The Unbelievable Believable. More Often Than Not, They Make The Believable Unbelievable.