All I Can Do Will Only Ever

The More I Work, The More I See Things Differently, That Is, Everything Gains In Grandeur Every Day, Becomes More And More Unknown, More And More Beautiful. The Closer I Come, The Grander It Is, The More Remote It Is.

Only Reality Interests Me Now And I Know I Could Spend The Rest Of My Life In Copying A Chair.

All The Art Of The Past Rises Up Before Me, The Art Of All Ages And All Civilizations, Everything Becomes Simultaneous, As If Space Had Replaced Time. Memories Of Works Of Art Blend With Affective Memories, With My Work, With My Whole Life.

Artistically I Am Still A Child With A Whole Life Ahead Of Me To Discover And Create. I Want Something, But I Won't Know What It Is Until I Succeed In Doing It.

If The Glass There In Front Of Me Astounds Me More Than All The Glasses I've Seen In Painting, And If I Even Think That The Greatest Architectural Wonder Of The World Couldn't Affect Me More Than This Glass, It's Really Not Worth While Going To The Indies To See Some Temple Or Other When I Have As Much And More Right In Front Of Me.