I think I live such a boring life. But I can't imagine any other kind of life, so I guess it's the life I want.

If I saw the art around me that I liked, then I wouldn't do art.

I go back and forth between wanting to be abundantly simple and maddeningly complex.

I think art, if it's meaningful at all, is a conversation with other artists. You say something, they say something, you move back and forth.

Talent is cheap, you have to be possessed or obsessed, rather. You really have to feel like you cannot not do art, and that is something you can't will.

Look at the subject as if you have never seen it before. Examine it from every side. Draw its outline with your eyes or in the air with your hands, and saturate yourself with it.

I will not make anymore boring art.

A TWO-DIMENSIONAL SURFACE WITHOUT ANY ARTICULATION IS A DEAD EXPERIENCE

I don't try to be funny. It's just that I feel the world is a little bit absurd and off-kilter and I'm sort of reporting.

Well, why is this art? Why isn't that art?

I was always interested in language. I thought, why not? If a painting, by the normal definition of the term, is paint on canvas, why can't it be painted words on canvas?

The great mass of humankind possesses an unmistakable unit-identity. It can be one thing. It can act as a single organism.

His knowledge was deep, but his pride has grown with it.

Friendship is neither a formality nor a mode: it is rather a life.

My husband does so many romantic things for me, it's absurd.

I wanted to be president of the United States. I really did. The older I get, the less preposterous the idea seems.

I am a Senator against my wishes and feelings, which I regret more than any other of my life.

Well, I get my subject on Wednesday night; I think it out carefully on Thursday, and make my rough sketch; on Friday morning I begin, and stick to it all day, with my nose well down on the block.

My dear, life rarely gives us what we want at the moment we consider appropriate. Adventures do occur, but not punctually.

The world is a demon. It is a kingdom of which the puny ego is king. Put it away and stand firm.

The truth never becomes clear as long as we assume that each one of us, individually, is the center of the universe.