Before pop art, there was such a thing as bad taste. Now there's kitsch, schlock, camp, and porn.

In this country there is a universal third person, the man we all want to be. Advertising has discovered this man. It uses him to express the possibilities open to the consumer. To consume in America is not to buy; it is to dream. Advertising is the suggestion that the dream of entering the third person singular might possibly be fulfilled.

Time seems to pass. The world happens, unrolling into moments, and you stop to glance at a spider pressed to its web. There is a quickness of light and a sense of things outlined precisely and streaks of running luster on the bay. You know more surely who you are on a strong bright day after a storm when the smallest falling leaf is stabbed with self-awareness. The wind makes a sound in the pines and the world comes into being, irreversibly, and the spider rides the wind-swayed web.

There are times when you want to stop working at faith and just be washed in a blowing wind that tells you everything.

It is interesting ... how weapons reflect the soul of the maker.

I've always felt that my subject was living in dangerous times.

It was important for him to believe that he'd spent his life among people who kept missing the point.