Tragic art, as it developed in the theaters of ancient Greece, in the fifth century B.C., was essentially an art form devoted to tracing how people fail, and also according them a level of sympathy, which ordinary life would not necessarily accord them. A few years ago, I was thinking about this, and I went to "The Sunday Sport," a tabloid newspaper I don't recommend you start reading if you're not familiar with it already.

We need to internalize this idea of excellence. Not many folks spend a lot of time trying to be excellent.

When I’m painting, I’m not thinking about anything. I’m just painting.

To love someone is to see them as they truly are, and still, to care for them.

"El arte es la única manera de escapar sin salir de casa."

"The past is never dead. It's not even past."