Great Art Picks Up Where Nature Ends.

Will God Or Someone Give Me The Power To Breathe My Sigh Into My Canvases, The Sigh Of Prayer And Sadness, The Prayer Of Salvation, Of Rebirth?

To Call Everything That Appears Illogical, Fantasy, Fairy Tale, Or Chimera Would Be Practically To Admit Not Understanding Nature.

If I Weren't A Jew Then I Wouldn't Be An Artist, Or At Least Not The One I Am Now.

The Stars Were My Best Friends. The Air Was Full Of Legends And Phantoms, Full Of Mythical And Fair-tale Creatures, Which Suddenly Flew Away Over The Roof, So That One Was At One With The Firmament.

In My Youth, Poverty Enriched Me, But Now I Can Afford Wealth.