There is always a heavy demand for fresh mediocrity. In every generation the least cultivated taste has the largest appetite.

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.

Nature has mysterious infinities and imaginative power. It is always varying the productions it offers to us. The artist himself is one of nature's means.

We never really know what stupidity is until we have experimented on ourselves.

I shut my eyes in order to see.

Night is here. All is at rest. My eyes close in order to see without actually understanding the dream that flees before men infinite space; and I experience the languorous sensation produced by the mournful procession of my hopes.

Art requires philosophy, just as philosophy requires art. Otherwise, what would become of beauty?