You come into the world alone and you go out of the world alone yet it seems to me you are more alone while living than even going and coming.

Writing is a strong easement for perplexity. My life is a map, spread out with all the rivers and hills showing.

The biggest part of painting perhaps is faith, and waiting receptively, content to go any way, not planning or forcing. The fear, though, is laziness. It is so easy to drift and finally be tossed up on the beach, derelict.

Got a new pup. He is half griffon. The other half is mistake.

I think that one's art is a growth inside one. I do not think one can explain growth. It is silent and subtle. One does not keep digging up a plant to see how it grows.

You always feel when you look it straight in the eye that you could have put more into it, could have let yourself go and dug harder.

There is something bigger than fact: the underlying spirit, all it stands for, the mood, the vastness, the wildness.