Most Artists Have Retired Too Absolutely; They

Pain Is Something To Master, Not To Wallow In.

Dreams Pass Into The Reality Of Action. From The Actions Stems The Dream Again; And This Interdependence Produces The Highest Form Of Living.

I Find That Life, Day By Day, Is Composed Of At Least One Joy, One Problem And One Sorrow. Then There Are The Smaller Ingredients: You Always Learn Something, Whether Useful Or Harmful - That Is Difficult To Analyze Until Later; You Always Give Something; You Alwayou Always Grow A Little In One Direction Or Another.

I Love Your Silences, They Are Like Mine.

Is Devotion To Others A Cover For The Hungers And The Needs Of The Self, Of Which One Is Ashamed? I Was Always Ashamed To Take. So I Gave. It Was Not Virtue. It Was A Disguise.