The flat sound of my wooden clogs on the cobblestones, deep, hollow and powerful, is the note I seek in my painting.

Life is hardly more than a fraction of a second. Such a little time to prepare oneself for eternity!

Oh yes! He loved yellow, did good Vincent...When the two of us were together in Arles, both of us insane, and constantly at war over beautiful colors, I adored red; where could I find a perfect vermilion?

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

By the combination of lines and colors, under the pretext of some motif taken from nature, I create symphonies and harmonies that represent nothing absolutely real in the ordinary sense of the word but are intended to give rise to thoughts as music does.

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

Color! What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams.