Our Entire Being Is Nourished By Color.

There Is In Reality No Such Thing As Modern Art. Art Is Carried On Up And Down In Immense Cycles Through Centuries And Civilizations.

The Width Of A Line May Present The Idea Of Infinity. An Epigram May Contain A World. In The Same Way, A Small Picture Format May Be Much More Living, Much More Leavening, Stirring, Awakening, Than Square Yards Of Wall Space.

Colors Must Fit Together As Pieces In A Puzzle Or Cogs In A Wheel.

A Thing In Itself Never Expresses Anything. It Is The Relation Between Things That Gives Meaning To Them And That Formulates A Thought. A Thought Functions Only As A Fragmentary Part In The Formulation Of An Idea.

To Sense The Invisible And To Be Able To Create It, That Is Art.