The richness I achieve comes from nature, the source of my inspiration.

Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment. To such an extent indeed that one day, finding myself at the deathbed of a woman who had been and still was very dear to me, I caught myself in the act of focusing on her temples and automatically analyzing the succession of appropriately graded colors which death was imposing on her motionless face.

Listening only to my instincts, I discovered superb things.

For almost two months now I've been struggling away with no result.

Apart from painting and gardening, I'm not good at anything.

It is only too easy to catch people's attention by doing something worse than anyone else has dared to do it before.

It is a tragedy that we live in a world where physical courage is so common, and moral courage is so rare.