The joys of parents are secret, and so are their grieves and fears.

All colours will agree in the dark.

I would like my pictures to look as if a human being had passed between them, like a snail, leaving a trail of the human presence and memory trace of past events, as the snail leaves its slime.

It is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in and settleth in it, that doth the hurt.

Certainly virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when they are incensed, or crushed: for prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue.

We rise to great heights by a winding staircase of small steps.

Who then to frail mortality shall trust But limns the water, or but writes in dust.