I am still a victim of chess. It has all the beauty of art - and much more. It cannot be commercialized. Chess is much purer than art in its social position.

Art has absolutely no existence as veracity, as truth.

I feel shame, not for the wrong things I have done, but for the right things that I have failed to do.

Art has the lovely habit of ruining all artistic theories.

Humor is the only reason to live.

All decisions in the artistic execution of the work rest with pure intuition and cannot be translated into a self-analysis.

The life of an artist is like the life of a monk, a lewd monk if you like, very Rabelaisian. It is an ordination.