I am turned into a dream. I feel nothing, or I don't know what I feel. Yet it seems to me I am happy.

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.

Men live in glad obedience to the masters they believe in, or they live in a frictional opposition to the master they wish to undermine.

We only seem to learn from Life that Life doesn't matter so much as it seemed to do - it's not so burningly important, after all, what happens. We crawl, like blinking sea-creatures, out of the Ocean onto a spur of rock, we creep over the promontory bewildered and dazzled and hurting ourselves, then we drop in the ocean on the other side: and the little transit doesn't matter so much.

My whole working philosophy is that the only stable happiness for mankind is that it shall live married in blessed union to woman-kind - intimacy, physical and psychical between a man and his wife. I wish to add that my state of bliss is by no means perfect.

The upshot was, my paintings must burn that English artists might finally learn.

Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot.