Contemplating a purported work of art is a social activity. Either you have a rewarding time, or you don't. You don't have to say why afterward. You don't have to say anything.

I'm an old guy, and I was protesting during the Vietnam War. We killed fifty Asians for every loyal American. Every artist worth a damn in this country was terribly opposed to that war, finally, when it became evident what a fiasco and meaningless butchery it was.

Doesn't anything socialistic make you want to throw up? Like great public schools, or health insurance for all?

People should practice an art in order to make their souls grow and not to make money or become famous. Paint a picture. Write.

That is my principal objection to life, I think: It's too easy, when alive, to make perfectly horrible mistakes.

Future generations will look back on TV as the lead in the water pipes that slowly drove the Romans mad.

The Summer had died peacefully in its sleep, and Autumn, as soft-spoken executrix, was locking life up safely until Spring came to claim it.