A Critic In My House Sees Some

By The Combination Of Lines And Colors, Under The Pretext Of Some Motif Taken From Nature, I Create Symphonies And Harmonies That Represent Nothing Absolutely Real In The Ordinary Sense Of The Word But Are Intended To Give Rise To Thoughts As Music Does.

Slyly, Banteringly, But Also Overbearingly, The Critic - The One Who Does Not Swallow Anything Whole, Who Waits Until Posterity Has Consecrated It Before... Howling - Is Among Those Who Howl Their Admiration The Way They Howl Their Insults: Don't Be Afraid, Don't Tremble - The Beast Doesn't Have Any Nails Or Teeth, Or Even Brain: It Is Stuffed.

In Painting One Must Search Rather For Suggestion Than For Description, As Is Done In Music.

Life Is Hardly More Than A Fraction Of A Second. Such A Little Time To Prepare Oneself For Eternity!

In Order To Produce Something New, You Have To Return To The Original Source, To The Childhood Of Mankind.