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

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).

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

The form is always the measure of the obsession.

It was always disappointing to see that what I could really master in terms of form boiled down to so little.

Whores are the most honest girls. They present the bill right away.

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?