How lovely yellow is! It stands for the sun.

The sight of stars always sets me dreaming just as naively as those black dots on a map set me dreaming of towns and villages. Why should these points of light in the firmament, I wonder, be less accessible than the dark ones on the map of France? We take a train to go to Torascon or Roven and we take death to a star.

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

The more I think about it, the more I realize there is nothing more artistic than to love others.

The sunflower is mine, in a way.

One of the hardest things to do is to paint darkness which nonetheless has light in it.

Drawing is the root of everything.