If you hear a voice within you say 'you cannot paint,' then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.

For the great doesn't happen through impulse alone, and is a succession of little things that are brought together.

As practice makes perfect, I cannot but make progress; each drawing one makes, each study one paints, is a step forward.

Fortunately for me, I know well enough what I want, and am basically utterly indifferent to the criticism that I work to hurriedly. In answer to that, I have done some things even more hurriedly theses last few days.

Christ is more of an artist than the artists; he works in the living spirit and the living flesh, he makes men instead of statues.

Life itself, too, is forever turning an infinitely vacant, dispiriting blank side towards man on which nothing appears, any more than it does on a blank canvas. But no matter how vacant and vain, how dead life may appear to be, the man of faith, of energy, of warmth, who knows something, will not be put off so easily.

We are surrounded by poetry on all sides.