Color Is The Keyboard. The Eye Is

Everything That Is Dead Quivers. Not Only The Things Of Poetry, Stars, Moon, Wood, Flowers, But Even A White Trouser Button Glittering Out Of A Puddle In The Street... Everything Has A Secret Soul, Which Is Silent More Often Than It Speaks.

The Artist Is The Hand That, By Touching This Or That Key, Sets The Soul Vibrating Automatically.

Emotion That I Experienced On First Seeing The Fresh Paint Come Out Of The Tube.. ..the Impression Of Colours Strewn Over The Palette: Of Colours - Alive, Waiting, As Yet Unseen And Hidden In Their Little Tubes...

The Work Of Art Is Born Of The Artist In A Mysterious And Secret Way. From Him It Gains Life And Being. Nor Is Its Existence Casual And Inconsequent, But It Has A Definite And Purposeful Strength, Alike In Its Material And Spiritual Life.

Colors Produce A Spiritual Vibration, The Impression They Create Is Important Only As A Step Towards This Vibration.