Creativity is the marriage humanity makes with eternity.

Creativity is part sweat – not just beads of it, but sometimes buckets.

Because she favours solitude and indwelling, an artist can live a significantly more claustrophobic life that she had ever intended.

Humanitarian convictions are the linchpins of our salvation, and these an artist must champion.

We have enough experiences in a day to make art for a decade.

Talent is so loaded a word, so full to the brim with meanings, that an artist might be wise to forget about it altogether and just keep on working.

The artist is a god, but he is also an idiot. That is the human way.

Art and business may be strange bedfellows, but an artist must make room in her bed for both.

There are an infinite number of rewards you could bestow on yourself for working at your creative projects, and you deserve every one of them.

That as a smart person, whose brain races faster and harder than the next person’s, you can’t accomplish something like stopping your racing mind from worrying doesn’t mean that you have a disorder or that you are a failure.