In Paris, there was a woman strolling along a street, when she spotted Picasso sketching near a sidewalk cafe. Not so thrilled that she could not be slightly presumptuous, the woman asked Picasso if he might sketch her, and charge accordingly. Picasso obliged. In just minutes, there she was: an original Picasso.
‘And what do I owe you?’ she asked. ‘Five thousand francs,’ he answered.
‘But it only took you three minutes,’ she politely reminded him.
‘No,’ Picasso said, ‘It took me all my life.’