And I Would Often Wake Up At

Disease, Insanity, And Death Were The Angels That Attended My Cradle, And Since Then Have Followed Me Throughout My Life.

I Don’t Believe In An Art That Is Not Born Out Of Man’s Need To Open His Heart.

The Camera Will Never Compete With The Brush And The Palette, Until Such Time As Photographs Can Be Taken In Heaven Or Hell.

Your Face Encompasses The Beauty Of The Whole Earth. Your Lips, As Red As Ripening Fruit, Gently Part As If In Pain. It Is The Smile Of A Corpse. Now The Hand Of Death Touches Life. The Chain Is Forged That Links The Thousand Families That Are Dead To The Thousand Generations To Come.

When I Paint, I Never Think Of Selling. People Simply Fail To Understand That We Paint In Order To Experiment And To Develop Ourselves As We Strive For Greater Heights.