Well chaps first I'd like to say a few vile things more or less at random, not only because it is expected of me but also because I enjoy it.

Painters, especially American painters since the Second World War, have been much more troubled, beset by formal perplexity, than American writers. Theyve been a laboratory for everybody.

The much heaves and palpitates. It is multidirectional and has a mayor.

The self cannot be escaped, but it can be, with ingenuity and hard work, distracted.

He is mad about being small when you were big, but no, that's not it, he is mad about being helpless when you were powerful, but no, not that either, he is mad about being contingent when you were necessary, not quite it... he is insane because when he loved you, you didn't notice.

Yes, success is everything. Failure is more common. Most achieve a sort of middling thing, but fortunately one's situation is always blurred, you never know absolutely quite where you are.

We are what we have been told about ourselves. We are the sum of the messages we have received. The true messages. The false messages.