Nothing so resembles a daub as a masterpiece.

When the physical organism breaks up, the soul survives. It then takes on another body.

Oh yes! he loved yellow, this good Vincent, this painter from Holland - those glimmers of sunlight rekindled his soul, that abhorred the fog, that needed the warmth.

If you see a tree as blue, then make it blue.

Machines have come, art has fled, and I am far from thinking photography can help us.

In art, there are only two types of people: revolutionaries and plagiarists. And in the end, doesn't the revolutionary's work become official, once the State takes it over?

Civilization is what makes you sick.