Ideas Are One Thing And What Happens

Our Poetry Now Is The Realization That We Possess Nothing. Anything Therefore Is A Delight (since We Do Not Posses It) And Thus Need Not Fear Its Loss.

What Right Do I Have To Be In The Woods, If The Woods Are Not In Me.

When You Start Working, Everybody Is In Your Studio- The Past, Your Friends, Enemies, The Art World, And Above All, Your Own Ideas- All Are There. But As You Continue Painting, They Start Leaving, One By One, And You Are Left Completely Alone. Then, If You Are Lucky, Even You Leave.

Why Do You Not Do As I Do? Letting Go Of Your Thoughts As Though They Were The Cold Ashes Of A Long Dead Fire?

If Something Is Boring After Two Minutes, Try It For Four. If Still Boring, Then Eight. Then Sixteen. Then Thirty-two. Eventually One Discovers That It Is Not Boring At All.