Drawing is the poet's written line, set down to see if there be a story worth telling, a truth worth revealing.

Bleed me of art, and there won't be enough liquid left in me to spit! [Michelangelo Buonorotti]

His mind was like a soup dish, wide and shallow; it could hold a small amount of nearly anything, but the slightest jarring spilled the soup into somebody's lap

Sometimes men are generous and forgiving, sometimes angry and blind.

He had always loved God. In his darkest hours he cried out, "God did not create us to abandon us.

Normal people do not create art.

To be an artist is first to be a manual laborer.