I Sense A Scream Passing Through Nature.

Death Is Pitch-dark, But Colors Are Light. To Be A Painter, One Must Work With Rays Of Light.

This Kind Of Painting With Its Large Frames Is A Bourgeois Drawing-room Art. It Is An Art Dealer's Art-and That Came In After The Civil Wars Following The French Revolution.

No Longer Shall I Paint Interiors With Men Reading And Women Knitting. I Will Paint Living People Who Breathe And Feel And Suffer And Love.

I Have Been Given A Unique Role To Play On This Earth: Given To Me By A Life Filled With Sickness, Ill-starred Circumstances And My Profession As An Artist. It Is A Life That Contains Nothing That Resembles Happiness, And Moreover Does Not Even Desire Happiness.

I Sense A Scream Passing Through Nature. I Painted ... The Clouds As Actual Blood. The Colour Shrieked.