There Is No Such Thing As Intelligence;

What A Delightful Thing Is The Conversation Of Specialists! One Understands Absolutely Nothing And It's Charming.

What Use Is My Mind? Granted That It Enables Me To Hail A Bus And To Pay My Fare. But Once I Am Inside My Studio, What Use Is My Mind? I Have My Model, My Pencil, My Paints. My Mind Doesn't Interest Me.

The Museums Are Here To Teach The History Of Art And Something More As Well, For, If They Stimulate In The Weak A Desire To Imitate, They Furnish The Strong With The Means Of Their Emancipation.

I Always Urged My Contemporaries To Look For Interest And Inspiration To The Development And Study Of Drawing, But They Would Not Listen. They Thought The Road To Salvation Lay By The Way Of Colour.

My Art, What Do You Want To Say About It? Do You Think You Can Explain The Merits Of A Picture To Those Who Do Not See Them? . . . I Can Find The Best And Clearest Words To Explain My Meaning, And I Have Spoken To The Most Intelligent People About Art, And They Have Not Understood; But Among People Who Understand, Words Are Not Necessary, You Say Humph, He, Ha And Everything Has Been Said.