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 was all so far away - there was quiet and an untouched feel to the country and I could work as I pleased.

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

I realized that were I to paint flowers small, no one would look at them because I was unknown. So I thought I'll make them big, like the huge buildings going up. People will be startled; they'll have to look at them - and they did.

I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life - and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do.

If you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for a moment.

I see no reason for painting anything that can be put into any other form as well.