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

There is a battle that goes on between men and women. Many people call it love.

Disease, insanity, and death were the angels that attended my cradle, and since then have followed me throughout my life.

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

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

My fear of life is necessary to me, as is my illness. Without anxiety and illness, I am a ship without a rudder. My art is grounded in reflections over being different from others. My sufferings are part of my self and my art. They are indistinguishable from me, and their destruction would destroy my art. I want to keep those sufferings

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