If What You Want To Paint Is

From My Rotting Body, Flowers Shall Grow And I Am In Them And That Is Eternity.

Oil-painting Is A Developed Technique. Why Go Backwards?

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

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

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.