I do not weep: I loathe tears, for they are a sign of slavery.

I think only of objects: of a leg or an arm, of the wonderful sense of foreshortening, breaking through the plane, of the division of space, of the combination of straight lines in relation to curved ones.

I believe the reason I love painting so much is that it forces one to be objective.

Height, width, and depth are the three phenomena which I must transfer into one plane to form the abstract surface of the picture, and thus to protect myself from the infinity of space.

I do not weep: I loathe tears, for they are a sign of slavery.

What matters is real love for things of the world outside us and for the deep secrets within us.

I went across the fields to avoid the straight highways, along the firing lines where people were shooting at a small wooded hill, which is now covered with wooden crosses and lines of graves instead of spring flowers.