When I Am Finished Painting, I Paint

So There's Only One Tactic For The State: Kill The Seers.

I Don't Think I'm Wrong When I Say That The Most Beautiful Objects Of The "stone Age" Were Made Of Skin, Fabric, And Especially Wood. The "stone Age" Ought To Be Called The "wood Age." How Many African Statues Are Made Of Stone, Bone, Or Ivory? Maybe One In A Thousand! And Prehistoric Man Had No More Ivory At His Disposal Than African Tribes. Maybe Even Less. He Must Have Had Thousands Of Wooden Fetishes, All Gone Now.

He Was An Afghan Hound Name Kabul. Since Him I Have Had Other Afghan Hounds.... Perhaps I Am Looking For His Ghost. He Is The Only One That I Sometimes Think About. Often, If He Comes In To My Mind When I Am Working, It Alters What I Do. The Nose On The Face I Am Drawing Gets Longer And Sharper. The Hair Of The Woman I Am Sketching Gets Longer And Fluffy, Resting Against Her Cheeks Like His Ears Rested Against His Head.

If You Take My Sayings And Explode Them In The Air, They Remain Only Sayings. But If You Fit Them Together In Their Correct Places, You Will Have The Whole Story.

A Painter Is A Man Who Paints What He Sells; An Artist, On The Other Hand, Is A Man Who Sells What He Paints.