Art Comes From Joy And Pain...but Mostly

The Rich Man Who Gives, Steals Twice Over. First He Steals The Money And Then The Hearts Of Men.

I Painted The Picture, And In The Colors The Rhythm Of The Music Quivers. I Painted The Colors I Saw.

In My Childhood I Always Felt That I Was Treated Unjustly, Without A Mother, Sick, And With The Threat Of Punishment In Hell Hanging Over My Head

Your Face Encompasses The Beauty Of The Whole Earth. Your Lips, As Red As Ripening Fruit, Gently Part As If In Pain. It Is The Smile Of A Corpse. Now The Hand Of Death Touches Life. The Chain Is Forged That Links The Thousand Families That Are Dead To The Thousand Generations To Come.

Some Colors Reconcile Themselves To One Another, Others Just Clash.