There's something about black. You feel hidden away in it.

I want real things ... music that makes holes in the sky.

My first memory is of the brightness of light ... light all around. I was sitting among pillows on a quilt on the ground ... very large white pillows.

I don't see why we ever think of what others think of what we do – no matter who they are. Isn't it enough just to express yourself?

War is killing the individual in it unless he has learned livingness - if he had it he wouldn't be a good soldier.

Filling a space in a beautiful way - that is what art means to me.

I do not like the idea of happiness - it is too momentary - I would say that I was always busy and interested in something - interest has more meaning to me than the idea of happiness.