I sense a scream passing through nature. I painted ... the clouds as actual blood. The colour shrieked.

I find it difficult to imagine an afterlife, such as Christians, or at any rate many religious people, conceive it, believing that the conversations with relatives and friends interrupted here on earth will be continued in the hereafter.

I do not paint what I see, but what I saw.

I was walking along a road one evening – on one side lay the city, and below me was the fjord. The sun went down – the clouds were stained red, as if with blood. I felt as though the whole of nature was screaming – it seemed as though I could hear a scream. I painted that picture, painting the clouds like real blood. The colours screamed.

Youth must go ahead and prosper. These young painters are all very talented people, but they all paint frescoes.

I learned early about the misery and dangers of life, and about the afterlife, about the external punishment which awaited the children of sin in Hell.

Without fear and illness, I could never have accomplished all I have