I Made Myself Into An Envelope Into

The Memory Of Cumshewa Is Of A Great Lonesomeness Smothered In A Blur Of Rain.

Real Art Is Religion, A Search For The Beauty Of God Deep In All Things.

You Come Into The World Alone And You Go Out Of The World Alone Yet It Seems To Me You Are More Alone While Living Than Even Going And Coming.

I Wonder Why We Are Always Sort Of Ashamed Of Our Best Parts And Try To Hide Them. We Don't Mind Ridicule Of Our 'sillinesses' But Of Our 'sobers'.

The Artist Himself May Not Think He Is Religious, But If He Is Sincere His Sincerity In Itself Is Religion.