In 1936, the painter
walked into Harry's Bar with a couple
of friends. He was already famous, and
carried a painting wrapped up under
his arm. "Cipriani," he said, "I haven't got
a sou but I'd like to eat here today with
my friends. May I leave this painting in
exchange?" I refused, because I didn't
want to establish any relationship with a client that was
different and less clear than the one there already was.
"I don't care if you don't have money today," I answered.
"Eat your fill and pay me when you do."