Very few people actually saw Andy's films like Chelsea Girls where he filmed seven hours, ran it on two screens, where each scene was in a different room at the Chelsea Hotel with these people he called 'Superstars" who were basically super-exhibitionists - the guy in one room high on LSD talking about masturbation, Brigid Berlin in another room playing a lesbian and shooting up people with amphetamines right through their jeans, it was all real and they were really doing it (though Brigid is now a proper lady), but you know Andy really did pre-date reality TV.

What often seemed like meanness or coldness was really fear of emotions and intimacy.

A lot of people found themselves working at the Factory and some even in his bed as a result of random occurrences like your call. Most famous artists have never been all that interested in meeting strangers. That was not the case with Andy Warhol at all.

Envy is a surefire party killer.

I think because both of my parents were essentially salespeople, and Italian-Americans, I always seemed to get along with people; I had a knack of finding something to talk about.

You can't hang around geniuses forever because they end up taking everything you've got. That's why they're the genius and you're not.

Fortunately I had a great intern who did a lot of the research on Andy's prices, which of course are phenomenal, but getting them straight - you know, he's reached this $100million plateau that only a handful of other artists have reached, which puts him in the company of Cezanne, Klimt, Picasso, and such.