The mystery in how little we know of other people is no greater than the mystery of how much, Laurel thought.

No art ever came out of not risking your neck.

Once you're into a story everything seems to apply-what you overhear on a city bus is exactly what your character would say on the page you're writing. Wherever you go, you meet part of your story.

[William Eggleston] sets forth what makes up our ordinary world. What is there, however strange, can be accepted without question; familiarity will be what overwhelms us.

Children, like animals use all their senses to discover the world. Then artists come along and discover it the same way...Or now and then we'll hear from an artisit who's never lost it.

To open up the new, to look back on the old may bring forth like discoveries in the practice of art.

Is there any sleeping person you can be entirely sure you have not misjudged?