Art Is Either Plagiarism Or Revolution.

When The Physical Organism Breaks Up, The Soul Survives. It Then Takes On Another Body.

In Order To Produce Something New, You Have To Return To The Original Source, To The Childhood Of Mankind.

Oh Yes! He Loved Yellow, Did Good Vincent...when The Two Of Us Were Together In Arles, Both Of Us Insane, And Constantly At War Over Beautiful Colors, I Adored Red; Where Could I Find A Perfect Vermilion?

Art Is Either Plagiarism Or Revolution.

Having The Certitude Of A Succession Of Days... Equally Free And Beautiful, Peace Descends On Me.