What I Say To An Artist Is,

A Perfect God Is The Creation Of A Conceited Man

Sara Could Commit Adultery At One End And Weep For Her Sins At The Other, And Enjoy Both Operations At Once.

Nothing Like Poetry When You Lie Awake At Night. It Keeps The Old Brain Limber. It Washes Away The Mud And Sand That Keeps On Blocking Up The Bends. Like Waves To Make The Pebbles Dance On My Old Floors. And Turn Them Into Rubies And Jacinths; Or At Any Rate, Good Imitations.

Reality Is A Narrow Little House Which Becomes A Prison To Those Who Can't Get Out Of It.

What I Say To An Artist Is, 'when You Can't Paint - Paint.