I know what I like—I like art—and I like what I know.

Art is excitement which if we can't create ourselves, we can at least, through love of it, make available to others.

I know what I like—I like art—and I like what I know.

Do you ever rub your eyes and suddenly find you're awake and not asleep, as you'd grown to suspect you were?

Well, what do you owe yourself? Do you dare take time out to listen to the grass grow, or can you even afford the expense of getting far enough away from life's daily cacophony to hear it grow if you took the time?

We may all be a peculiar lot...often broke, often dissatisfied because we're not doing more and better work...but we know how to have a ball that makes the rest of the world seem square.

I trust people who are violent about art, as long as they aren't closed-minded. But, unfortunately, most art blowhards are also art bigots.