I want to leave, to go somewhere where I should be really in my place, where I would fit in . . . but my place is nowhere; I am unwanted.

your judgement judges you and defines you

One should commit no stupidity twice, the variety of choice is, in the end, large enough.

What the painter adds to the canvas are the days of his life. The adventure of living, hurtling toward death.

I have always been an optimist, perhaps even too much.

The more absurd life is, the more insupportable death is.

I do not feel that I am the product of chance, a speck of dust in the universe, but someone who was expected, prepared, prefigured. In short, a being whom only a Creator could put here; and this idea of a creating hand refers to God.