Modern reality has got such a hold on us that... when we attempt to reconstruct the ancient days in our thoughts...the minor events of our lives tear us away from our meditations, and... thrust us back into our personal [problems]

Just slap something on it when you see a blank canvas staring at you with a sort of imbecility.

How rich art is, if one can only remember what one has seen, one is never empty of thoughts or truly lonely, never alone.

My brushwork is quite unsystematic. I slam the paint on in all sorts of ways and leave each result to take care of itself.

My sketchbook is a witness of what I am experiencing, scribbling things whenever they happen.

Love is eternal, the aspect may change, but not the essence. 


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