“Sure, I can talk like you, but I choose not to, It's like an art, you know? Picasso had to prove to the world he could paint the right way, before he goes putting both eyes on the side of a face... See if you paint wrong because that's the best you can do, you just a chump. But you do it because you want to? Then you're an artist...You can take that to the grave and dig it up when you need it.”

“That's wisdom you can take to the grave, and dig up when you need it!”

“But I do agree with Mr Findlay about one thing: I am desperate to paint, so it’s probably time to start. Because you can plan all you want, but most of the time, the ideas come when you’re working. And no matter how much you try to control it, you’ll still paint it wrong before you paint it right.”

“What do you think Gemma? Do you like being painted this way?" All I can think is that being painted by him feels a lot like being fucked by him, but he already knows that.”

“His fingers lightly grazed my cheek. "I didn't know you before. When you're not there, I can't concentrate. I'm wondering where you are, what you're doing...if you're there and I can see you, I can see you, I can focus. I know it's crazy, but that's how it is." "And crazy is exactly the way I like it," I said, leaning up to kiss his lips."Obviously," America muttered under breath.”

“He wanted to write about country so it would be there like Cezanne had done it in a painting. You have to do it from inside yourself... You could do it if you wanted to fight for it. If you'd lived right with your eyes.”