It is no accident that propels people like us to Paris.

For the moment I can think of nothing— except that I am a sentient being stabbed by the miracle of these waters that reflect a forgotten world.

Every man is working out his destiny in his own way and nobody can be of any help except by being kind, generous, and patient.

It's the pleasure of picking up the brush and seeing what happens.

New York has a trip-hammer vitality which drives you insane with restlessness if you have no inner stabilizer.

To know Paris is to know a great deal.

The worst sin that can be committed against the artist is to take him at his word, to see in his work a fulfillment instead of an horizon.