Always, At The Back Of Your Soul,

I Live In Company With A Body, A Silent Companion, Exacting And Eternal. He It Is Who Notes That Individuality Which Is The Seal Of The Weakness Of Our Race. My Soul Has Wings, But The Brutal Jailer Is Strict.

Draughtsmen May Be Made, But Colourists Are Born.

I Believe It Safe To Say That All Progress Must Lead, Not To Further Progress, But Finally To The Negation Of Progress, A Return To The Point Of Departure.

What Makes Sovereign Ugliness Are Our Conventions.

Finishing A Painting Demands A Heart Of Steel: Everything Requires A Decision, And I Find Difficulties Where I Least Expect Them... It Is At Such Moments That One Fully Realizes One's Own Weaknesses.