I am a believer and a conformist.
Often pagans, with their eyes wide open, do not see very clearly.
Subjective artists are one-eyed, but objective artists are blind.
For me, painting is a way to forget life. It is a cry in the night, a strangled laugh.
My only objective is to paint a Christ so moving that those who see him will be converted.
A tree against the sky possesses the same interest, the same character, the same expression as the figure of a human.
The artist discards all theories, both his own and those of others. He forgets everything when he is in front of his canvas.
The conscience of an artist worthy of the name is like an incurable disease which causes him endless torment but occasionally fills him with silent joy.
The richness of the world, all artificial pleasures, have the taste of sickness and give off a smell of death in the face of certain spiritual possessions.
Anyone can revolt. It is more difficult silently to obey our own inner promptings, and to spend our lives finding sincere and fitting means of expression for our temperament and our gifts.