I walk in the garden, I look at the flowers and shrubs and trees and discover in them an exquisiteness of contour, a vitality of edge, or a vigour of spring, as well as an infinite variety of colour that no artefact I have seen in the last sixty years can rival...each day, as I look, I wonder where my eyes were yesterday.

The average European does not seem to feel free until he succeeds in enslaving and oppressing others.

Not what man knows but what man feels, concerns art. All else is science.

I would willingly stand at street corners, hat in hand, begging passerby to drop their unused minutes into it.

It makes me happy to encounter goodness, love of work, humane intelligence, and people no matter at what kind of job, be it ever so humble, or ever so exalted, who do it well and con amore.

Art is mind and heart and touch as much and more than it is mere instrument, technique - without which however it cannot exist at all.

You can parody and make fun of almost anything, but that does not turn the universe into a caricature.