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While we're on art, I might go into my tastes in art. They're catholic and yet very personal. When I say I'm catholic, I think I am catholic in my taste in painting. I admire the good technique. I admire the capacity not only to represent a particular thing which you're painting, but to suggest more than meets the eye in the representation. I remember clearly going to see things like Claude Monet's “Purple Haycocks” in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and hearing my elders rave around about how there never were any such things as purple haycocks. I was hardly more than a child, but I was much interested in these, because I thought, as I stood across the gallery and looked at the Monet, “That looks the way haycocks look as I've seen them in Maine.” I understood the word Impressionist. It was the impression Monet got. I was the impression I got. I thought it was nice. I liked it. I was just growing up when the Impressionists began being popular.

I've always been concerned about the graphic arts, liked them and enjoyed them. I enjoy all paintings. I've enjoyed the modernistic movement in art very much indeed, without ever lessening my enjoyment and admiration for the Florentine primitives. I like those too. I took a long journey on a hot day this summer (1952) to see a few remote Giottos that could be seen. I admire them greatly