“Here in America we’re doing the most wonderful crafts”

The only works of art America has given are her plumbing and her bridges.

You see, I was never stage-struck the way most girls were.

Do be true to yourself, whether it’s bad doesn’t matter. The important thing – you have to copy while you’re studying.

I was in a convent for a year.

And then, of course, most potters, they go in for earth tones and subdued things, and I like color.

And I have exposed myself to art so that my work has something beyond just the usual potter.

There’s so much more to life than that, though I think that acting is fascinating because you can forget your own sorrow as you act and become somebody else.

The second time I was there I met Marcel Duchamp, and we immediately fell for each other. Which doesn’t mean a thing because I think anybody who met Marcel fell for him.

Hardships and handicaps can…stimulate our energy to survive them. You’ll find if you study the lives of people who’ve accomplished things, it’s often been done with the help of great willpower in overcoming this and that.

Certainly I was relatively a refined person. No way a tramp.

Celibacy is exhausting.

Choosing to live in the timeless, I am now at the easiest and happiest time of my life.

I happen to believe that there is an afterlife

But you can’t realize, you can’t know what another person goes through.

A rich poet from Harvard has no sense in his mind, except the aesthetic.

You know, acting is very fascinating. But being an actress is not, because you become so concentrated on yourself.

If you want to be a musician, study your craft. Study music.

You have to talk to the stone, and it has to talk to you.

If you succeed not, cast not away the quills yet, nor scratch the wainscot, beat not the poor desk, but bring all to the forge and file again; turn it new.

Study the rules so that you won’t beat yourself by not knowing something.

I just want to keep acting and better my craft and see how far it goes.

The craft of painting has virtually disappeared. There is hardly anyone left who really possesses it. For evidence one has only to look at the painters of this century.

Every serious novel is, beyond its immediate thematic preoccupations, a discussion of the craft, a conquest of the form, a conflict with its difficulties and a pursuit of its felicities and beauty.