“Be kind, aim for my heart.”

“May my heart be kind, my mind fierce, and my spirit brave.”

“I suddenly dreamt that I picked up the revolver and aimed it straight at my heart — my heart, and not my head; and I had determined beforehand to fire at my head, at my right temple. After aiming at my chest I waited a second or two, and suddenly my candle, my table, and the wall in front of me began moving and heaving. I made haste to pull the trigger.”

“I alternate my aims; at one time, I concentrate on poetry, on a more expressionist kind of sculpture; at other times on form – I mean on a kind of sculpture that concerns itself with formal relations rather than emotions or ideas. I suppose that this principle of alternating my aims leads to a kind of oscillation in the evolution of my own particular style as a sculptor, but I feel that it prevents me from repeating myself.”

“The aim of my work: The study of nature, the love of nature's art, and the need to express what one feels in one's heart.”

“There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and my heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness.”

“Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting
That would not let me sleep.”

“I aimed at the public's heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach.”

“The surest way to hit a woman’s heart is to take aim kneeling.”

“I do see myself as aiming to foment some kind of revolution.”