Art is collective. Always, it has a tradition behind it.

The trouble with men is that they have limited minds. That's the trouble with women, too.

When one culture has the big guns and the other has none, there is a certain predictablity about the outcome.

As my mother once said: The boys throw stones at the frog in jest. But the frogs die in earnest.

Real artists, it seems to me, are those who don't repeat themselves.

To act in a way both sexist and racist, to maintain one's class privilege, it is only necessary to act in the customary, ordinary, usual, even polite manner.

Sit a man on his ass with nothing to do but eat and the first thing that goes is his mind. It never fails.