I began to paint again, even though I could barely hold the brush, but knowing exactly what I wanted to paint, I began three more large canvases... of large wheat fields under cloudy skies, and it did not take a great deal to express sadness and loneliness... I believe these paintings say what words cannot.

To suffer without complaint is the only lesson we have to learn in this life

I am a man of passions, capable of and subject to doing more or less foolish things- which I happen to regret, more or less, afterwards.

How to achieve such anomalies, such alterations and re-fashionings of reality so what comes out of it are lies, if you like, but lies that are more than literal truth.

How right it is to love flowers and the greenery of pines and ivy and hawthorn hedges; they have been with us from the very beginning.

What a simple thing death is, just as simple as the falling of an autumn leaf.

What is drawing? It is working oneself through an invisible iron wall that seems to stand between what one feels and what one can do.