A Work Of Art Must Carry In

The Sign For Which I Forge An Image Has No Value If It Doesn't Harmonize With Other Signs, Which I Must Determine In The Course Of My Invention And Which Are Completely Peculiar To It.

Color Helps To Express Light, Not The Physical Phenomenon, But The Only Light That Really Exists, That In The Artist's Brain.

I Didn't Expect To Recover From My Second Operation But Since I Did, I Consider That I'm Living On Borrowed Time. Every Day That Dawns Is A Gift To Me And I Take It In That Way. I Accept It Gratefully Without Looking Beyond It. I Completely Forget My Physical Suffering And All The Unpleasantness Of My Present Condition And I Think Only Of The Joy Of Seeing The Sun Rise Once More And Of Being Able To Work A Little Bit, Even Under Difficult Conditions.

Hatred, Rancor, And The Spirit Of Vengeance Are Useless Baggage To The Artist. His Road Is Difficult Enough For Him To Cleanse His Soul Of Everything Which Could Make It More So.

From The Moment I Held The Box Of Colors In My Hands, I Knew This Was My Life. I Threw Myself Into It Like A Beast That Plunges Towards The Thing It Loves.