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.

The more you fail, the more you succeed. It is only when everything is lost and - instead of giving up - you go on, that you experience the momentary prospect of some slight progress. Suddenly you have the feeling - be it an illusion or not - that something new has opened up.

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

The older I grow, the more I find myself alone.

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

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!

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