Writing about this in Goose - though I haven't written nowhere nearly as much as planned, because I draw all the time :D
FB paraphrased version:
"I once asked the General if he is proud of me or if he ever thinks I should try harder to achieve great stuff or if I am wasting my talents or...., and he said I may be the next stage of human art or just somebody who spent all day reading a book - as long as at night, when he squeezes next to my soft, warm body in bed, I am smiling. Nothing else means anything to that man. No great art is worth a broken heart of his lover."