The Fingers Must Be Educated, The Thumb

All Our Interior World Is Reality, And That, Perhaps, More So Than Our Apparent World.

I've Always Painted Pictures In Which Human Love Floods My Colors.

When I Am Finishing A Picture, I Hold Some God-made Object Up To It

Will God Or Someone Give Me The Power To Breathe My Sigh Into My Canvases, The Sigh Of Prayer And Sadness, The Prayer Of Salvation, Of Rebirth?

Great Art Picks Up Where Nature Ends.