There's nothing on my mind that couldn't be expressed by a long insane outburst of hysterical rage.
The true artists is one who insists on producing a supply, whether or not there's any demand.
Even when I'm happy and successful, life still goes on.
I'm not always depressed: only when I think and feel.
How can you call it unreasonable when all I want is my own way?
Why is my autograph so little in demand, except on checks?