On the way I stood a moment looking out across the marshes with tall cattails, a patch of water, more marsh, then the woods with a few birch trees shining white at the edge on beyond. In the darkness it all looked just like I felt. Wet and swampy and gloomy, very gloomy. In the morning I painted it. My memory of it is that it was probably my best painting that summer.

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

Where I was born and where and how I have lived is unimportant. It is what I have done with where I have been that should be of interest.

I have painted portraits that to me are almost photographic. I remember hesitating to show the paintings, they looked so real to me. But they have passed into the world as abstractions - no one seeing what they are.

I like to convey the idea that art is important in everyday life.

I decided that if I could paint that flower in a huge scale, you could not ignore its beauty.

I don't know what Art is but I know some things it isn't when I see them.