Art Is A Finger Up The Bourgeoisie

I Understand How You Could See Something In The Root Of A Tree, A Crack In The Wall, In An Eroded Stone Or Pebble. But Marble? It Comes Off In Blocks And Doesn't Evoke Any Image. It Does Not Inspire.

I Draw Like Other People Bite Their Nails.

It Is My Misfortune - And Probably My Delight - To Use Things As My Passions Tell Me. What A Miserable Fate For A Painter Who Adores Blondes To Have To Stop Himself Putting Them Into A Picture Because They Don't Go With The Basket Of Fruit! . . . I Put All The Things I Like Into My Pictures. The Things - So Much The Worse For Them. They Just Have To Put Up With It.

Style Is Often Something Which Locks The Painter Into The Same Vision, The Same Technique, The Same Formula During Years And Years, Sometimes During One's Whole Lifetime.

There Are More Copies Than Originals Among People.