If you're a painter, you're not alone. There's no way to be alone.

The nature of anguish is translated into different forms.

The final test of a painting, theirs, mine, any other, is: does the painter's emotions come across?

She looked like, if you bit her, milk and honey would flow from her.

I only knew him as an excellent painter. I don't know he is an archeologist, let alone anything about the tea stuff.

I write because I write - as anyone in the arts does. You're a painter because you feel you have no choice but to paint. You're a writer because this is what you do.