We artists are indestructible; even in a prison, or in a concentration camp, I would be almighty in my own world of art, even if I had to paint my pictures with my wet tongue on the dusty floor of my cell.

One does a whole painting for one peach and people think just the opposite - that particular peach is but a detail.

If I like it, I say it's mine. If I don't I say it's a fake.

He can who thinks he can, and he can't who thinks he can't. This is an inexorable, indisputable law.

I do not evolve, I am.

Forcing yourself to use restricted means is the sort of restraint that liberates invention. It obliges you to make a kind of progress that you can't even imagine in advance.

The hidden harmony is better than the obvious.