Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places.
He is richest who is content with the least, for content is the wealth of nature.
If all mankind were to disappear, the world would regenerate back to the rich state of equilibrium that existed ten thousand years ago. If insects were to vanish, the environment would collapse into chaos.
I would do anything for love
Anything you’ve been dreaming of…
There is nothing so good for the inside of a man as the outside of a horse.
Love is life’s end, but never ending. Love is life’s wealth, never spent, but ever spending. Love’s life’s reward, rewarded in rewarding.
We all need Somebunny to Love
Happy Easter to one and all!
We are perpetually on the way thither, being by nature winged insects and honey gatherers of the mind.
Self-portraiture is a singular in-turned art. Something eerie lurks in its fingering of the edge between seer and seen.
We could learn a lot from crayons; some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, while others bright, some have weird names, but they all have learned to live together in the same box.
The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape…
And the world around me was nothing if not an infinity of distractions…
I was just a bumpkin. Just a country bumpkin.
And yet to wine, to opium even, I prefer the elixir of your lips on which love flaunts itself…