Even when we look at nature, our imagination constructs the picture.
The first virtue of a painting is to be a feast for the eyes.
[Photography is] in some ways false just because it is so exact.
I believe it safe to say that all progress must lead, not to further progress, but finally to the negation of progress, a return to the point of departure.
Glory to that Homer of painting, to that father of warmth and enthusiasm... he really paints men.
The outcome of my days is always the same; an infinite desire for what one never gets; a void one cannot fill; an utter yearning to produce in all ways, to battle as much as possible against time that drags us along, and the distractions that throw a veil over our soul.