The landscape becomes human, becomes a thinking, living being within me. I become one with my picture...we merge in an iridescent chaos.

It took me 40 years to find out that painting is not sculpture.

Here, on the river's verge, I could be busy for months without changing my place, simply leaning a little more to right or left.

I'll always be grateful to the public of intelligent amateurs.

The awareness of our own strength makes us modest.

To paint is not to copy the object slavishly, it is to grasp a harmony among many relationships.

I must be more sensible and realize that at my age, illusions are hardly permitted and they will always destroy me.