I look at my work and make up my mind about it. After that, neither flattery nor criticism matters to me.

Color is one of the great things in the world that makes life worth living to me and as I have come to think of painting it is my efforts to create an equivalent with paint color for the world, life as I see it.

I believe an artist is the last person in the world who can afford to be affected.

The morning is the best time, there are no people around. My pleasant disposition likes the world with nobody in it.

It was all so far away - there was quiet and an untouched feel to the country and I could work as I pleased.

Now and then when I get an idea for a picture, I think, how ordinary. Why paint that old rock? Why not go for a walk instead? But then I realise that to someone else it may not seem so ordinary.

War is killing the individual in it unless he has learned livingness - if he had it he wouldn't be a good soldier.