The art of being officially old seems to lie in cooperative submission.
Generosity is often the stalking horse of control.
I never decided at all to be an artist; being an artist seems to have happened to me.
Humility is the daughter of truth.
I have been flooded with color on the inside, drab on the outside.
artists often lie behind on the field long after the art combine, the broad-bladed harvester of informed criticism, has mowed, bailed, and stored the crop.