When Michelangelo was an old man, he drew himself sitting in a child's pushcart.

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.

It seems to me nowadays that the most important task for someone who is aging is to spread love and warmth whenever possible.

Growing old is partly an inescapable process of accommodation and adjustment.

I can always paint very well with my eyes, but with my hands it doesn't always work out.

There are moments on most days when I feel a deep and sincere gratitude, when I sit at the open window, and there is a blue sky or moving clouds.

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.