Living with him is like being told a perpetual story: his mind is the biggest, most imaginative I have ever met. I could live in its growing countries forever.

I wish you’d find the exit out of my head.

Spiderlike, I spin mirrors, Loyal to my image.

What is so real as the cry of a child?

I saw the years of my life spaced along a road in the form of telephone poles threaded together by wires. I counted one, two, three... nineteen telephone poles, and then the wires dangled into space, and try as I would, I couldn't see a single pole beyond the nineteenth.

I am made, crudely, for success.

The artist's life nourishes itself on the particular, the concrete.