The Worst State Of Affairs

One Does Not Lash Hat Lies At A Distance. The Foibles That We Ridicule Must At Least Be A Little Bit Our Own. Only Then Will The Work Be A Part Of Our Own Flesh. The Garden Must Be Weeded.

It Is Interesting To Observe How Real The Object Remains, In Spite Of All Abstractions.

Color Is The Place Where Our Brain And The Universe Meet.

What My Art Probably Lacks Is A Kind Of Passionate Humanity... There Is No Sensuous Relationship, Not Even The Noblest, Between Myself And The Many.

It Is The Artistic Mission To Penetrate As Far As May Be Toward That Secret Ground Where Primal Law Feeds Growth.