A person himself believes that all the other portraits are good likenesses except the one of himself.
Edvard MunchI do not believe in the art which is not the compulsive result of man's urge to open his heart
Edvard MunchAll art, literature, and music must be born in your heart's blood. Art is your heart's blood.
Edvard MunchI was walking along a road one evening โ on one side lay the city, and below me was the fjord. The sun went down โ the clouds were stained red, as if with blood. I felt as though the whole of nature was screaming โ it seemed as though I could hear a scream. I painted that picture, painting the clouds like real blood. The colours screamed.
Edvard Munch