There are infinite modes of expression in the world of art, and to insist that only by one road can the artist attain his ends is to limit him.

The artist who imagines that he puts his best into a portrait in order to produce something good, which will be a pleasure to the sitter and to himself, will have some bitter experiences.

The artist is the world's scapegoat.

A sculptor is supposed to be a dull dog anyway, so why should he not break out in colour sometimes, and in my case I'd as soon be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.

A wife, a lover, can perhaps never see what the artist sees. They rarely ever do. Perhaps a really mediocre artist has more chance of success.

To think of abstraction as an end in itself is undoubtedly letting oneself be led into a cul-de-sac and can only lead to exhaustion and impotence.

Why dont they stick to murder and leave art to us?

To accuse me of making sensations is the easiest way of attacking me, and in reality leaves the question of sculpture untouched.

Real love is to offer your life at the feet of another.

But you said so yourself, the poor lass will die of it...Do you really want her to die?'Yes, I'd rather she died than have a bad life.

Not every man is an abuser and not every woman is a victim. So before assuming anything we must try to know the truth. Because sorry isn't enough sometimes to warmth the loss.

I think we each come out of the womb with some unique way of looking at the world and if we don't express it, we loose faith in ourselves.

Write the book you want to read, the one you cannot find.

To drive men from independence to live on alms, is itself great cruelty.

A pathological business, writing, don't you think? Just look what a writer actually does: all that unnatural tense squatting and hunching, all those rituals: pathological!

A fearless woman who knows that her purity is her best shield can never be dishonoured.

Englishmen are not usually softened by appeals to the memory of their mothers.

If I hadn't had the talent, the networks wouldn't have televised my fights. No one has made me; I made myself. I paid my dues