Without Fear And Disease, My Life Would

To Die Is As If One's Eyes Had Been Put Out And One Cannot See Anything Any More. Perhaps It Is Like Being Shut In A Cellar. One Is Abandoned By All. They Have Slammed The Door And Are Gone. One Does Not See Anything And Notices Only The Damp Smell Of Putrefaction.

A Person Himself Believes That All The Other Portraits Are Good Likenesses Except The One Of Himself.

Nature Is Not Only All That Is Visible To The Eye... It Also Includes The Inner Pictures Of The Soul.

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

I Build A Kind Of Wall Between Myself And T He Model So That I Can Paint In Peace Behind It. Otherwise, She Might Say Something That Confuses And Distracts Me.