I can never get over when youre on the beach how beautiful the sand lo — Andy Warhol

"He was a slight man who wore a white wig."

"(You wouldnt believe the number of people who hang the electric chair painting in the homes, especially if the colour of the canvas matches the curtains.)"

"In my art work, hand painting would take much too long and anyway thats not the age were living in."

"They always say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself."

"The Pop artists did images that anybody walking down Broadway could recognize in a split second – comics, picnic tables, mens trousers, celebrities, shower curtains, refrigerators, Coke bottles – all the great modern things that the Abstract Expressionists tried so hard not to notice at all. (1960s)"

"Ive never met a person I couldnt call a beauty."

"Going up that river was like traveling back to the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted on the earth and the big trees were kings. An empty stream, a great silence, an impenetrable forest. The air was warm, thick, heavy, sluggish. There was no joy in the brilliance of sunshine. The long stretches of the waterway ran on, deserted, into the gloom of overshadowed distances."

"We were standing where there was a fine view of the harbor and its long stretches of shore all covered by the great army of the pointed firs, darkly cloaked and standing as if they waited to embark. As we looked far seaward among the outer islands, the trees seemed to march seaward still, going steadily over the heights and down to the waters edge."

"I am in fact a Hobbit (in all but size). I like gardens, trees, and unmechanized farmlands; I smoke a pipe, and like good plain food (unrefrigerated), but detest French cooking; I like, and even dare to wear in these dull days, ornamental waistcoats. I am fond of mushrooms (out of a field); have a very simple sense of humor (which even my appreciative critics find tiresome); I go to bed late and get up late (when possible). I do not travel much."

"I could be content that we might procreate like trees, without conjunction, or that there were any way to perpetuate the world without this trivial and vulgar act of coition; It is the foolishest act a wise man commits in all his life, nor is there anything that will more deject his cooled imagination, when he shall consider what an odd and unworthy piece of folly he hath committed."

"[Epilogue after being fatally shot] I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isnt a second at all. It stretches on forever, like an ocean of time. For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout Camp, watching falling stars. [Scene of Jane and Ricky lying bed alerted by gunshot and then gets up] And yellow leaves from the maple trees that lined our street. [Scene of Angela in powder room alerted by gunshot] Or my grandmothers hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper. [Scene of Carolyn outside in rain unresponsive to faint gunshot] And the first time I saw my cousin Tonys brand new Firebird. And Janie, and Janie. And Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but its hard to stay mad when theres so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like Im seeing it all at once, and its too much. My heart fills up like a balloon thats about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I cant feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no idea what Im talking about, Im sure. But dont worry. You will someday."

"Part of how we come to take command of our world, to take command of our environment, to make these tools by which were able to do this, is we ask ourselves questions about it the whole time. So this man starts to ask himself questions. "This world," he says, "so who made it?" Now, of course he thinks that, because he makes things himself. So hes looking for someone who would have made this world. He says, "Well, so who would have made this world? Well, it must be something a little like me. Obviously much much bigger. And necessarily invisible. But he would have made it. Now why did he make it?" Now we always ask ourselves "why?" because we look for intention around us; because we always intend– we do something with intention. We boil an egg in order to eat it. So we look at the rocks, and we look at the trees, and we wonder what intention is here even though it doesnt have intention."