The Man Who Fears War And Squats

If A Patron Buys From An Artist Who Needs Money (needs Money To Buy Tools, Time, Food), The Patron Then Makes Himself Equal To The Artist; He Is Building Art Into The World; He Creates.

The Eyes Of This Dead Lady Speak To Me For Here Was Love, Was Not To Be Drowned Out. And Here Desire, Not To Be Kissed Away. The Eyes Of This Dead Lady Speak To Me.

A People That Grows Accustomed To Sloppy Writing Is A People In The Process Of Losing Grip On Its Empire And On Itself.

The Artist Is Always Beginning.

Utter Originality Is, Of Course, Out Of The Question.