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.

If your inner voice is telling you that you can't paint, by all means, hurry up and paint and silence the voice.

How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be?

What lives in art and is eternally living, is first of all the painter and then the painting.

The only thing to do is to go one's own way, to try one's best, to make the thing live.

It's better to have a gay life of it than to commit suicide.

I have a firm faith in art, a firm confidence in its being a powerful stream which carries a man to a harbor, though he himself must do his bit too.