The one thing that fills me with enthusiasm is to try, despite everything, to get nearer to those visions that seem so hard to express.

The more I work, the more I see things differently, that is, everything gains in grandeur every day, becomes more and more unknown, more and more beautiful. The closer I come, the grander it is, the more remote it is.

All the art of the past rises up before me, the art of all ages and all civilizations, everything becomes simultaneous, as if space had replaced time. Memories of works of art blend with affective memories, with my work, with my whole life.

In a fire, between a Rembrandt and a cat, I would save the cat.

The head is what matters. The rest of the body plays the part of antennae making life possible for people and life itself is inside the skull.

I've tried doing so, for it was never my intention to paint only with gray. But in the course of my work I have eliminated one color after another, and what has remained is gray, gray, gray!

That's the terrible thing: the more one works on a picture, the more impossible it becomes to finish it.