The Notes I Have Made

From The Moment Of My Birth, The Angels Of Anxiety, Worry, And Death Stood At My Side, Followed Me Out When I Played, Followed Me In The Sun Of Springtime And In The Glories Of Summer. They Stood At My Side In The Evening When I Closed My Eyes, And Intimidated Me With Death, Hell, And Eternal Damnation.

If What You Want To Paint Is The Emotive Mood In All Its Strength... Then You Must Not Sit And Stare At Everything And Depict It Exactly As One Sees It.

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

Any Number Of Holier-than-thou Honorable Realists Walk Around In The Belief That They Have Accomplished Something, Simply Because They Tell You For The Hundredth Time That A Field Is Green And A Red-painted House Is Painted Red.

I Do Not Believe In The Art Which Is Not The Compulsive Result Of Man's Urge To Open His Heart