You always feel when you look it straight in the eye that you could have put more into it, could have let yourself go and dug harder.
There is something bigger than fact: the underlying spirit, all it stands for, the mood, the vastness, the wildness.
Trees love to toss and sway; they make such happy noises.
Perfectly ordered disorder designed with a helter-skelter magnificence.
Twenty can't be expected to tolerate sixty in all things, and sixty gets bored stiff with twenty's eternal love affairs.
I think that one's art is a growth inside one. I do not think one can explain growth. It is silent and subtle. One does not keep digging up a plant to see how it grows.
