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.

I have a single track mind. I work on an idea for a long time. It's like getting acquainted with a person, and I don't get acquainted easily.

Anyone who doesn't feel the crosses simply doesn't get that country.

The abstraction is often the most definite form for the intangible thing in myself that I can clarify in paint.

Nobody sees a flower really; it is so small. We haven't time, and to see takes time - like to have a friend takes time.

I took back a barrel of bones to New York. They were my symbols of the desert, but nothing more. I haven't seen enough to think of any other symbolism. The skulls were there and I could say something with them.

Happiness goes like the wind, but what is interesting stays.