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I still love a lot of the guys who just paint.

I have continued to paint; my father - who was savaged by the critics - continued to paint until practically the last week of his life.

We were both in love with him. I fell out of love with him, but he didn't.

I still paint. I love the joy that color can give to our lives and to our communities. I try to bring something of the artist in me to my politics.

A man paints with his brains and not with his hands.

If I ever loved a man better than I love my art, I should marry him and leave the stage. But I have never met such a man.

The more I paint the more I like everything.

I don't paint things. I only paint the difference between things.

I love painting so much that nothing else matters.