paint

I love to paint. And I have another profession - an interior design business.

Nick Swardson used to have birthday paint parties. They were phenomenal.

As a child, I always chose a false nose and some face paint and a wig for my birthday.

If there were only one truth, you couldn't paint a hundred canvases on the same theme.

I always pet a dog with my left hand because if he bit me I'd still have my right hand to paint with.

Public officials insult our intelligence and our goodwill when they paint rosy pictures about budgets, jobs, bipartisanship, and transparency, and alter their positions on issues simply to keep collecting their paycheck by never disagreeing or disappointing anyone.

No, I do a bunch of things to entertain myself. I paint, I make music, I take photographs.

A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself.

It is no use painting the foot of the tree white, the strength of the bark cries out from beneath the paint.

When I have a terrible need of - shall I say the word - religion. Then I go out and paint the stars.

I'm interested in all kinds of pictures, however they are made, with cameras, with paint brushes, with computers, with anything.

I paint what cannot be photographed, that which comes from the imagination or from dreams, or from an unconscious drive.

I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.

You are the creator. Get out that old box of paints and brushes and start drawing love into your life.

APPROACHRain is falling. Winter approaches. I drive towards it. In the slow rain. In the semi-darkness. Cello music is playing in the car. The deep sad sound of the cello. It almost swamps me. Routine endeavours to swamp me. The everyday paying of bills.But I paint men walking in a city of icebergs and crystal. Some of the icebergs are red. I paint a woman swimming in green wavy water. Surrounded by desert mesas. Bright orange in the sunlight. With darker orange for shadows. I paint two people. With purple and pink and yellow and blue circles overlapping the boundaries of their bodies. Dancing.Life is not ordinary. When I see you tonight I will press my lips to your eyelids. Each one in turn. I will rub my fingertips over the skin on the back of your hands and around your wrists. I will sigh. I will growl. I will whinny. I will gallop into your smile. One sharp foot after the other.

Lifelong pain, an unwanted pregnancy, and even death may be the reward for such a brief window of pleasure. What a foolish gamble!

Negative people will always be there to stain your pure image with their dirty tongues and brushes, but you'll always remain as white as snow, no matter how high the quality of paint they use.

What a face this girl possessed!__ould I not gaze at it every day I would need to recreate it through painting, sculpture, or fatherhood until a second such face is born.