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

By painting colors and lines and forms seen in quickened mood I was seeking to make this mood vibrate as a phonograph does. This was the origin of the paintings in The Frieze of Life.

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.

The rich man who gives, steals twice over. First he steals the money and then the hearts of men.

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

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

It is better to have a good painting with ten holes than ten bad paintings without any holes.