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.

If we master a bit of drawing, everything else is possible.

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?

I don't know if I work in order to do something, or in order to know why I can't do what I want to do.

Once the object has been constructed, I have a tendency to rediscover in it, transformed and displaced, images, impressions, facts which have deeply moved me (often without my knowing it).

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

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