My life is really a history of observing forms and taking in imagery. I don't mean in a photographic way, I mean in a way of feeling them structurally.

Western art is built on the biographical passion of one artist for another.

For me, drawing is everything, because it informs everything. It even informs my poetry. It's the way I begin everything.

More important than having a romance with the object that I'm drawing, is to have a romance with the mark that I am making.

I work every day. I work all day. I've never had a holiday. It's all I really want to do. It's what I'm here for. . . . More and more, I'm just so grateful I was born an artist.

I've never had an easy relationship with critics. I hold a lot of homicide in my heart. If this was another time, I'd be packing a piece.

My attitude towards drawing is not necessarily about drawing. It's about making the best kind of image I can make, it's about talking as clearly as I can.

The figure is still the only thing I have faith in in terms of how much emotion it's charged with and how much subject matter is there.

I do not think that obsession is funny or that not being able to stop one's intensity is funny.

I have never been able to carry out any work coolly. On the contrary it is done, so to speak, with my own blood.

Don’t let the society or your own family or anybody to kill your dreams because your dreams are yourself!

what sinks of iniquity these little villages can be

Prayer is the ascending vapor which supplies The showers of blessing, and the stream that flows Through earth's dry places, till on every side "The wilderness shall blossom as the rose.

Credulity as a character trait is encouraged in every child who grows up with religious training, which invariably insists on the virtue of blind faith and the sinfulness of doubting and questioning.

May good fortune be your constant companion.

Punk is not dead. Punk will only die when corporations can exploit and mass produce it.

Shakespeare was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of the books to read nature; he looked inward, and found her there.

Your life is in your hands, to make of it what you choose.

Some of us live a Christian life as if we're always under the stern, watchful eye of our Father and he is very impossible to please... No, God delights even in our heartfelt attempts at obedience.

The oak roars when a high wind wrestles with it; the beech shrieks; the elm sends forth a long, deep groan; the ash pours out moans of thrilling anguish.