Oh Yes! He Loved Yellow, This Good

Silence! I Am Learning To Know The Silence Of A Tahitian Night.

There Are Tonalities Which Are Noble And Others Which Are Vulgar, Harmonies Which Are Calm Or Consoling, And Others Which Are Exciting Because Of Their Boldness.

Beautiful Colors Exist, Though We Do Not Realize It, And Are Glimpsed Behind The Veil That Modesty Has Drawn Over Them.

The Missionary Is No Longer A Man, A Conscience. He Is A Corpse, In The Hands Of A Confraternity, Without Family, Without Love, Without Any Of The Sentiments That Are Dear To Us. Emasculated, In A Sense, By His Vow Of Chastity, He Offers Us The Distressing Spectacle Of A Man Deformed And Impotent Or Engaged In A Stupid And Useless Struggle With The Sacred Needs Of The Flesh, A Struggle Which, Seven Times Out Of Ten, Leads Him To Sodomy, The Gallows, Or Prison.

Proficiency In Art Is A Contract With Your Self And The Empowerment Of Your Self. Not All Of Us Demand Or Even Desire Proficiency, But For Those Who Do It's Necessary To Temper The Influence Of Groups. And While Some Artists Think History Is Bunk, The Historical Evidence Is Overwhelming: "in My Isolation I Grow Stronger."