I Wouldn't Mind Turning Into A Vermilion

Hatred, Rancor, And The Spirit Of Vengeance Are Useless Baggage To The Artist. His Road Is Difficult Enough For Him To Cleanse His Soul Of Everything Which Could Make It More So.

There Are Always Flowers For Those Who Want To See Them.

Colours Have Their Own Distinctive Beauty That You Have To Preserve, Just As In Music You Try To Preserve Sounds. It Is A Question Of Organization, Of Finding The Arrangement That Will Keep The Beauty And Freshness Of The Colour

The Arts Have A Development Which Comes Not Only From The Individual But Also From A Whole Acquired Force, The Civilization Which Precedes Us. One Cannot Do Just Anything. A Talented Artist Cannot Do Whatever He Pleases. If He Only Used His Gifts, He Would Not Exist. We Are Not The Masters Of What We Produce. It Is Imposed On Us.

My Curves Are Not Crazy.