I’ll never have enough time to paint all the pictures I’d like to.

I know of no painless process for giving birth to a picture idea. When I must produce, I retire to a quiet room with a supply of cheap paper and sharp pencils; my brain knows it’s going to take a beating.

You must first spend some time getting your model to relax. Then you’ll get a natural expression.

Everyone in those days expected that art students were wild, licentious characters. We didn’t know how to be, but we sure were anxious to learn.

It wouldn’t be right for me to clown around when I’m painting a president.

The remarks about my reaching the age of Social Security and coming to the end of the road, they jolted me. And that was good. Because I sure as hell had no intention of just sitting around for the rest of my life. So I’d whip out the paints and really go to it.

Some folks think I painted Lincoln from life, but I haven’t been around that long. Not quite.

No man with a conscience can just bat out illustrations. He’s got to put all his talent and feeling into them!

The ’20s ended in an era of extravagance, sort of like the one we’re in now. There was a big crash, but then the country picked itself up again, and we had some great years. Those were the days when American believed in itself. I was happy and proud to be painting it.

I’m the oldest antique in town.