I Painted The Picture, And In The

I Find It Difficult To Imagine An Afterlife, Such As Christians, Or At Any Rate Many Religious People, Conceive It, Believing That The Conversations With Relatives And Friends Interrupted Here On Earth Will Be Continued In The Hereafter.

What Is Art? Art Grows From Joy And Sorrow, But Mostly From Sorrow. It Grows From Human Lives.

A Work Of Art Comes Only From Inside A Human Being.

I Was Walking Down The Road With Two Friends When The Sun Set; Suddenly, The Sky Turned As Red As Blood. I Stopped And Leaned Against The Fence, Feeling Unspeakably Tired. Tongues Of Fire And Blood Stretched Over The Bluish Black Fjord. My Friends Went On Walking, While I Lagged Behind, Shivering With Fear. Then I Heard The Enormous Infinite Scream Of Nature.

One Can Easily Tell That The Creator Of The Paintings In The Sistine Chapel Was Above All A Sculptor