From the moment of my birth, the angels of anxiety, worry, and death stood at my side, followed me out when I played, followed me in the sun of springtime and in the glories of summer. They stood at my side in the evening when I closed my eyes, and intimidated me with death, hell, and eternal damnation.

Colors live a remarkable life of their own after they have been applied to the canvas.

In my childhood I always felt that I was treated unjustly, without a mother, sick, and with the threat of punishment in Hell hanging over my head

For as long as I can remember I have suffered from a deep feeling of anxiety which I have tried to express in my art.

One can easily tell that the creator of the paintings in the Sistine Chapel was above all a sculptor

I do not believe in the art which is not the compulsive result of man's urge to open his heart

I felt as if there were invisible threads connecting us - I felt the invisible strands of her hair still winding around me - and thus as she disappeared completely beyond the sea - I still felt it, felt the pain where my heart was bleeding - because the threads could not be severed.