Your face encompasses the beauty of the whole earth. Your lips, as red as ripening fruit, gently part as if in pain. It is the smile of a corpse. Now the hand of death touches life. The chain is forged that links the thousand families that are dead to the thousand generations to come.

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

I should have considered it wrong to have finished the Frieze before the room for its accommodation and the funds for its completion were available.

The viewers must come to understand the sacredness of painting, so they will remove their hats as if they were in church.

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

Without anxiety and illness I would have been like a ship without a rudder.

Some colors reconcile themselves to one another, others just clash.