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.

Painting constantly appeared to me as the one and only possible achievement.

There is nothing I hate more than sentimentality.

The greatest mystery of all is reality.

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

It was so wonderful outside that even the wild senselessness of this enormous death, whose music I hear again and again, could not disturb me from my great enjoyment!

When spiritual, metaphysical, material, or immaterial events come into my life, I can only fix them by way of painting.