Every Doorway, Every Intersection Has A Story.

Suddenly The Staggering Love Bursts Away From Me Like Milk From A Smashed Glass.

But The Idea That Women Can't Take Care Of Themselves Still Permeates Our Culture.

My Paintings Are Reflections Of My Own Inner Mysteries... They All Reflect My Relationship To My Steadiest Of Companions And Muses - Nature And Animals.

Can You Be Happy With The Movies, And The Ads, And The Clothes In The Stores, And The Doctors, And The Eyes As You Walk Down The Street All Telling You There Is Something Wrong With You? No. You Cannot Be Happy. Because, You Poor Darling Baby, You Believe Them.

In The End I Would Always Pull Up With A Sense Of Glory, That Loving Is The Strong Side. It's Feeble To Be An Object. What's The Point Of Being Loved In Return, I'd Ask Myself.