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.
Oh, Spring! I want to go out and feel you and get inspiration. My old things seem dead. I want fresh contacts, more vital searching.
You must be absolutely honest and true in the depicting of a totem for meaning is attached to every line. You must be most particular about detail and proportion.
I sat staring, staring, staring - half lost, learning a new language or rather the same language in a different dialect. So still were the big woods where I sat, sound might not yet have been born.
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.
Twenty can't be expected to tolerate sixty in all things, and sixty gets bored stiff with twenty's eternal love affairs.
Perfectly ordered disorder designed with a helter-skelter magnificence.
Trees love to toss and sway; they make such happy noises.
There is something bigger than fact: the underlying spirit, all it stands for, the mood, the vastness, the wildness.
