The wheat field has ...poetry; it is like a memory of something one has once seen. We can only make our pictures speak.

Whatever plan one makes, there is a hidden difficulty somewhere.

Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.

I put my heart and my soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process.

My aim in life is to make pictures and drawings, as many and as well as I can; then, at the end of my life... looking back with love and tender regret, and thinking, 'Oh, the pictures I might have made!'

Everywhere we look, complex magic of nature blazes before our eyes.

For great things do not done just happen by impulse but are a succession of small things linked together.