It is only too true that a lot of artists are mentally ill - it's a life which, to put it mildly, makes one an outsider. I'm all right when I completely immerse myself in work, but I'll always remain half crazy.

In general, and most especially with artists, I pay as much attention to the man who does the work, as to the work itself.

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

I always dream a painting like that, with a group of lively figures of the pals.

We feel lonely now and then and long for friends and think we should be quite different and happier if we found a friend of whom we might say: “He is the one.” But you, too, will begin to learn that there is much self-deception behind this longing; if we yielded too much to it, it would lead us from the road.

That I was not suited to commerce or academic study in no way proves that I should also be unfit to be a painter.

It astonishes me already when I compare my condition today with what it was a month ago. Before that I knew well enough one could fracture one's legs and arms and recover afterward, but I did not know that you could fracture the brain in your head and recover from that too.