wallpaper

At home in the nursery, I usually played alone. Actually, I seldom played, I spoke to the wallpaper. The many dark circles in the pattern of the wallpaper seemed like people to me. I made up stories in which they appeared, either I told them the stories or they played with me, I never got tired of the wallpaper people and I could talk to them for hours.

A painting shouldn't be just a picture, it should be a philosophy.

Lovers tend to be philosophical, achievers are practical.

Pragmatism is good prevention for problems.

Creating is living doubly. The groping, anxious quest of a Proust, his meticulous collecting of flowers, of wallpapers, and of anxieties, signifies nothing else.

A photograph shouldn't be just a picture, it should be a philosophy.

Those were my last words. To be listed in some book of quotations, alphabetically after

These are her accomplishments. Challenges she's lived through. Shithead was just along for the ride. In the background. Like wallpaper. You can change the color of the walls anytime, and it might look different, but the room's still the same.

He kept seeing the brains dribbling down the wallpaper. It wasn__ the killing that stayed on his mind, it was the spilled talent. A lifetime of honing and shaping torn apart in less than a second. All those stories, all those images, and what came out looked like so much oatmeal. What was the point?

I rode up, walked past a few miles of wallpaper that was someone's revenge for life's disappointments.

My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go.

Every plain wall deserves a piece of work, so why not cover it with a smile?

I only enjoy what I can see, because I don't feel anything. For example, your new wallpaper. I like it and it can stay, it's quiet and it keeps quiet at least. Luckily I don't have to feel it, just see it.