The world today doesn't make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?

I imitate everyone except myself.

Action is the fundamental key to success.

I paint the way some people write an autobiography. The paintings, finished or not, are the pages from my diary.

Something sacred, that's it. We ought to be able to say that such and such a painting is as it is, with its capacity for power, because it is "touched by God."

Lord, protect me from what I want!

I hate that aesthetic game of the eye and the mind, played by these connoisseurs, these mandarins who "appreciate" beauty. What is beauty, anyway? There's no such thing. I never "appreciate," any more than I "like." I love it or I hate.