I have never been able to carry out any work coolly. On the contrary it is done, so to speak, with my own blood. Anyone who looks at my works must be able to sense that.

As in everything else, I find that age is not good for much, that one becomes deafer and less sensitive. Also, the higher up the mountain you climb, the less of a view you get. A mist closes in and cheats you of the hoped-for and expected opportunity to see far and wide.

Where do all the women who have watched so carefully over the lives of their beloved ones get the heroism to send them to face the cannon?

Every war carries within it the war which will answer it. Every war is answered by a new war, until everything, everything is smashed.

No longer diverted by other emotions, I work the way a cow grazes.

I am in the world to change the world.

Men without joy seem like corpses.