Sometimes it made him [Degas] furious that he could not find a chink in my armor, and there would be months when we just could not see each other, and then something I painted would bring us together again.

I think that if you shake the tree, you ought to be around when the fruit falls to pick it up.

I used to go and flatten my nose against that window and absorb all I could of his art. It changed my life. I saw art then as I wanted to see it.

Why do people so love to wander? I think the civilized parts of the world will suffice for me in the future.

Women should be someone and not something.

I am independent! I can live alone and I love to work.

I have touched with a sense of art some people-they felt the love and the life. Can you offer me anything to compare to that joy for an artist?