A FEATHER. A feather is trimmed, it is trimmed by the light and the bug and the post, it is trimmed by little leaning and by all sorts of mounted reserves and loud volumes. It is surely cohesive.

Argument is to me the air I breathe. Given any proposition, I cannot help believing the other side and defending it.

Too few is as many as too many.

there is art and there is official art, there always has been and there always will be.

There is no such thing as repetition. Only insistance.

You are extraordinary within your limits, but your limits are extraordinary!

it is all the question of identity. ... As long as the outside does not put a value on you it remains outside but when it does put a value on you then it gets inside or rather if the outside puts a value on you then all your inside gets to be outside.