You could wonder for hours what flowers mean, but for me, they're life itself, in all its happy brilliance. We couldn't do with out flowers. Flowers help you forget life's tragedies.

All our interior world is reality, and that, perhaps, more so than our apparent world.

The freer the soul, the more abstract painting becomes.

To call everything that appears illogical, fantasy, fairy tale, or chimera would be practically to admit not understanding nature.

If all life moves inevitably towards its end, then we must, during our own, colour it with our colours of love and hope.

I am out to introduce a psychic shock into my painting, one that is always motivated by pictorial reasoning: that is to say, a fourth dimension.

Will God or someone give me the power to breathe my sigh into my canvases, the sigh of prayer and sadness, the prayer of salvation, of rebirth?