Dearest - my body is simply crazy with wanting you - If you don't come tomorrow - I don't see how I can wait for you - I wonder if your body wants mine the way mine wants yours - the kisses - the hotness - the wetness - all melting together - the being held so tight that it hurts - the strangle and the struggle.

It seems to be my mission in life to wait on a dog.

You are one of my nicest thoughts.

I often painted fragments of things because it seemed to make my statement as well as or better than the whole could.

You get whatever accomplishment you are willing to declare.

Happiness goes like the wind, but what is interesting stays.

If one could only reproduce nature, and always with less beauty than the original, why paint at all?