Art comes into the highest part of the mind, that with which we can know the presence of God.

I never decided at all to be an artist; being an artist seems to have happened to me.

In the range of my character at any given moment, I have acted in the only way it seemed to me I could have acted. This in no way means that I have done what was right; only what was possible for me. Sometimes I have done what I knew was wrong, and have rationalized. But rationalization is a form of desperation. It takes kindness to forgive oneself for one's life.

January is my favorite month, when the light is plainest, least colored. And I like the feeling of beginnings.

I have no home but me.

the capacity to work feeds on itself and has its own course of development. This is what artists have going for them.

Their [artists'] essential effort is to catapult themselves wholly, without holding back one bit, into a course of action without having any idea where they will end up. They are like riders who gallop into the night, eagerly leaning on their horse's neck, peering into a blinding rain. And they have to do it over and over again.