I had come down here, not to serve God as a craftsman should, but to show my people how great a craftsman I was.
They cared not.

We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the shape of a surplice peg, We have learned to bottle our parent twain in the yelk of an addled egg. We know that the tail must wag the dog, for the horse is drawn by the cart, But the devil never whoops, as he of old; It's clever, but is it art?

And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'

A good artist makes imaginations real!

God help us for we knew the worst too young.

I always try to believe the best of everybody -it saves so much trouble.