It had rained on some vivid green ferns in Maine and it was quite beautiful. I was moving the camera slightly and studying the ground glass. Looking at those 20 square inches, trying to find out just what were the right elements to include.
The jargon of sculptors is beyond me. I do not know precisely why I admire a green granite female, apparently pregnant monster with one eye going around a square corner.
The usefulness of a meeting rises with the square of the number of people present.
In New York, you are competing with Times Square lights and all of that, so you’ve got to be 300 pounds and crazy to get anyone’s attention. Then, you can refine yourself. I always knew under those 300 pounds and tracksuits was a refined, slim, dignified man.
No more pronouncements on lousy verse. No more hidden competition. No more struggling not to be a square.
I remember someone once asked Jack Kennedy why he was paying such close attention to the renovation of the square across from the White House, and he said, ‘It may be the only thing my presidency is remembered for.’