I make a sketch of just about everything it seems. It seems worthwhile as an inheritance from Rodin.

I think I must be in love, or insane (Is there a difference?) as I long ago lost all sense of proportion with actions. I lavish as much time, care and concern on these small bits of mud as on a large bronze.

Friends, collectors of the small terra-cottas, (thank God!) may be the smartest of all to cherish these delicate offspring. My world is populated by these clay forms of torsos, figures, heads, legs, hands… too many to photograph, but having the same continued presence as the Children of Zeus.