I was walking along a path with two friends - the sun was setting - suddenly the sky turned blood red - I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence - there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city - my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety - and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.
Edvard MunchWhat is art? Art grows from joy and sorrow, but mostly from sorrow. It grows from human lives.
Edvard MunchAll art, literature, and music must be born in your heart's blood. Art is your heart's blood.
Edvard Munch