A true friend sees past your excuses to the real reason it's not your fault.
We are, many of us, a planet orbiting somebody's sun, unconscious of a lonely moon, orbiting our planet.
Love is the greatest touch-up artist of all.
The brain forgets much, but the lower back remembers everything.
Though confined to our destiny, we do get to pick the color scheme.
At my age, you not only have bittersweet memories, you make bittersweet plans.
To trade a childhood wonder for a plausible explanation - is there a worst trade one makes in life?
What is a mom but the sunshine of our days and the north star of our nights.
Why try to explain miracles to your kids when you can just have them plant a garden.
The artist uses the talent he has, wishing he had more talent. The talent uses the artist it has, wishing it had more artist.
A holiday cocktail party is where some stranger will learn more about you in an hour than your spouse has learned in a lifetime.
Abstract art is a fundamental distrust of the theory of reality concocted by the eyes.
There comes a morning in life when you wake up a new person; that is to say, you wake up the same person but you realize it's your own fault.
A painting is what you make of it, besides which, 'Moon, Weeping' has a better ring to it than 'Paintbrush, Dripping.
The first assumption of an art critic is that the artist meant to paint something else.
The clash between child and adult is never as stubborn as when the child within us confronts the adult in our child.
We find things where we look for them, which is why I never look for a golf ball out of bounds.
There is a logical explanation for everything, often mistaken for the reason it happened.
A true sportsman is a hunter lost in the woods and out of ammo.
The artist's talent sits uneasy as an object of public acclaim, having been so long an object of private despair.
O, how much simpler things would be If eyes could paint or brush could see.
You spend the first two-thirds of your life asking to be left alone and the last third not having to ask.
All is illusion, although as long as there's an illusion that the kids need to be fed, all might as well be reality.
For every person who atones, a hundred others find regret sufficient.
There is in every artist's studio a scrap heap of discarded works in which the artist's discipline prevailed against his imagination.
