Nature Has Mysterious Infinities And Imaginative Power.

Art Is Either A Plagiarist Or A Revolutionist.

A Critic In My House Sees Some Paintings. Greatly Perturbed, He Asks For My Drawings. My Drawings? Never! They Are My Letters, My Secrets.

In Art, There Are Only Two Types Of People: Revolutionaries And Plagiarists. And In The End, Doesn't The Revolutionary's Work Become Official, Once The State Takes It Over?

I Am A Great Artist And I Know It. It's Because Of What I Am That I Have Endured So Much Suffering, So As To Pursue My Vocation, Otherwise I Would Consider Myself A Rogue - Which Is What Many People Think I Am, For That Matter.

I'd Like To Write The Way I Do My Paintings, That Is, As Fantasy Takes Me, As The Moon Dictates.