The Contour Eludes Me.

Is Art Really The Priesthood That Demands The Pure In Heart Who Belong To It Wholly?

Talks On Art Are Almost Useless. The Work Which Goes To Bring Progress In One's Own Subject Is Sufficient Compensation For The Incomprehension Of Imbeciles.

Perhaps I Was Born Too Early. I Was More The Painter Of Your Generation Than Of Mine.

My Age And Health Will Never Allow Me To Realize The Dream Of Art I've Been Pursuing All My Life.

What I Am Trying To Translate To You Is More Mysterious, It Is Entwined In The Very Roots Of Being, In The Implacable Source Of Sensations.