Growing up, I thought I was white. It didn't occur to me I was Asian-American until I was studying abroad in Denmark and there was a little bit of prejudice.

Sometimes I think creativity is magic; it's not a matter of finding an idea, but allowing the idea to find you.

A lot of my works deal with a passage, which is about time. I don't see anything that I do as a static object in space. It has to exist as a journey in time.

I probably have fundamentally antisocial tendencies. I never took one extracurricular activity. I just failed utterly at that level. Part of me still rebels against that.

To fly we have to have resistance.

An artist fights to retain the integrity of a work so that it remains a strong, clear vision. Art is and should be the act of an individual willing to say something new, something not quite familiar.

Our lives are given meaning by our actions-accomplishments made while we are "here" that extend beyond our own time.

If we forget what used to be, then we’ve lost an ability to really be sensitive to our surroundings.

You have to let the viewers come away with their own conclusions. If you dictate what they should think, you've lost it.

I didn't have anyone to play with so I made up my own world.

OK, it was black, it was below grade, I was female, Asian American, young, too young to have served. Yet I think none of the opposition in that sense hurt me.

Before the first before and after the last after, there is night waiting.

Being good is easy, what is difficult is being just.

As I got older, I started to do it more and more, and I wanted to learn all of the different types. I grew up doing modern, so I wanted to learn ballet, tap, jazz, and African - just everything.

It is, ... kind of a softball atmosphere out there.

Sweet is the recollection of difficulties overcome.

Quentin Crisp said it to me; now I say it to you: say yes to everything.

If you're not falling, you're not training hard enough.

Then he almost but didn't say the two sentence he'd been meaning to say for years: part of me is made of glass, and also, I love you

Now, I guess, people want stars. People are trying to invent stars.

Atheism was natural enough, but heresy seemed strange. For, surely, if one could believe anything, one could believe everything.