I see something, find it marvelous, want to try and do it. Whether it fails or whether it comes off in the end becomes secondary. . . . So long as I've learned something about why.

If I see everything in gray, and in gray all the colors which I experience and which I would like to reproduce, then why should I use any other color?

When I see a head from a great distance, it ceases to be a sphere and becomes an extreme confusion falling down into the abyss.

If only someone else could paint what I see, it would be marvellous, because then I wouldnt have to paint at all.

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

Failure is my best friend. If I succeeded, it would be like dying. Maybe worse.

Only reality interests me now and I know I could spend the rest of my life in copying a chair.