Art Seems To Me To Be Above

My Hands Were Too Soft.. I Had To Find Some Special Occupation, Some Kind Of Work That Would Not Force Me To Turn Away From The Sky And The Stars, That Would Allow Me To Discover The Meaning Of Life.

We All Know That A Good Person Can Be A Bad Artist.but No One Will Ever Be A Genuine Artist Unless He Is A Great Human Being And Thus Also A Good One.

Will God Or Someone Give Me The Power To Breathe My Sigh Into My Canvases, The Sigh Of Prayer And Sadness, The Prayer Of Salvation, Of Rebirth?

I Am Working In Paris . I Cannot For A Single Day Get The Thought Out Of My Head That There Probably Exists Something Essential, Some Immutable Reality, And Now That I Have Lost Everything Else (thank God, It Gets Lost All On Its Own) I Am Trying To Preserve This And, What Is More, Not To Be Content. In A Word: I Am Working.

Love And Fantasy, Go Hand In Hand.