Talented minds have always been stealthily targeted by mediocre ones.

Everyone’s mind has sort of a slum division—a flirtatious spot that doesn’t give a hoot about how grave a situation is but constantly endeavors to derail more earnest thoughts, almost like a death-wish backseat driver.

The most ironic thing in the world is having no say when your name is determined for the first time (which is also for the last time for most), because newborns are not necessarily known for speaking their minds.

The art wouldn’t complain if we leave her alone. Losing a touch with art, however, is losing a touch with our imagination.

We are all born artists. The nature generally doesn’t discriminate among newborns with respect to art. Yet most of us try very hard as we grow, without knowing, to stop being artists.

Easy accessibility gradually tapers engrossment.