I look at my work and make up my mind about it. After that, neither flattery nor criticism matters to me.

I can't live where I want to, I can't go where I want to go, I can't do what I want to, I can't even say what I want to. I decided I was a very stupid fool not to at least paint as I wanted to.

I have already settled it for myself so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.

I know I am unreasonable about people but there are so many wonderful people whom I can't take the time to know.

My first memory is of the brightness of light — light all around.

I feel there is something unexplored about woman that only a woman can explore.

I realized that I had things in my head not like what I had been taught - not like what I had seen - shapes and ideas so familiar to me that it hadn't occurred to me to put them down. I decided to stop painting, to put away everything I had done, and to start to say the things that were my own.