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 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.

I painted the picture, and in the colors the rhythm of the music quivers. I painted the colors I saw.

The camera will never compete with the brush and the palette, until such time as photographs can be taken in Heaven or Hell.

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

No longer shall I paint interiors with men reading and women knitting. I will paint living people who breathe and feel and suffer and love.

Without fear and disease, my life would be like a boat without oars.