“The artist always has been and still is a being somewhat apart from the rest of humanity.”

The amount which cannot be harnessed and domesticated, but insists on its own form of activity rather than one which is offered ready made, is the energy used for the creation of art.

When one looks back over human existence however, it is very evident that all culture has developed through an initial resistance against adaptation to the reality in which man finds himself.

Fundamentally the male artist approximates more to the psychology of woman, who, biologically speaking, is a purely creative being and whose personality has been as mysterious and unfathomable to the man as the artist has been to the average person.

There is one great and universal wish of mankind expressed in all religions, in all art and philosophy, and in all human life: the wish to pass beyond himself as he now is.

Woman is a being dominated by the creative urge and . . . no understanding of her as an individual can be gained unless the significance and effects of that great fact can be grasped.

The attitude and reactions of artists toward their art children reveal an attitude similar to that which mothers in general possess toward their children. There is the same sensitivity to any criticism, the same possessive pride.

The creator does not create only for the pleasure of creating but . . . he also desires to subdue other minds.

The mystics are the only ones who have gained a glimpse into what is possible when this same capacity [for creation] is used primarily in the service of the individual himself instead of for the creation of art.

I would have loved to have been a painter or a sculptor. I’m still fascinated by those things.

When the mind is controlled and still what remains is the soul

Nor for my peace will I go far, As wanderers do, that still do roam, But make my strengths, such as they are, Here in my bosom, and at home.

It still makes me giggle that I’m paid to act.

The nice thing about Farscape is that you got to be the good guy and still do the bad guy things.

I’m OK being the veteran, but I’m still just a kid.

I still like my antique clothes.

She was still there inside me now, just as she always was: a life put on hold, a memory I didn’t know how to handle.