Brahms once remarked that the mark of an artist is how much he throws away. Nature, the great creator, is always throwing things away. A frog lays several million eggs at a sitting. Only a few dozen of these become tadpoles, and only a few of those become frogs. We can let imagination and practice be as profligate as nature.

When we are totally faithful to our own individuality, we are actually following a very intricate design. This kind of freedom is the opposite of "just anything".

The most potent muse of all is our own inner child.

Creative work is play. It is free speculation using materials of ones chosen form.

Every conversation is a form of Jazz. The activity of instantaneous creation is as ordinary to us as breathing.

If we split practice from the real thing, neither one of them will be very real.

Fidgeting and boredom are the symptoms of fear of emptiness, which we try to fill up with whatever we can lay our hands on.