I Do Not Believe In The Art

I Learned Early About The Misery And Dangers Of Life, And About The Afterlife, About The External Punishment Which Awaited The Children Of Sin In Hell.

And I Would Often Wake Up At Night And Stare Widely Into The Room: Am I In Hell?

I Find It Difficult To Imagine An Afterlife, Such As Christians, Or At Any Rate Many Religious People, Conceive It, Believing That The Conversations With Relatives And Friends Interrupted Here On Earth Will Be Continued In The Hereafter.

I Sense A Scream Passing Through Nature. I Painted ... The Clouds As Actual Blood. The Colour Shrieked.

Without Fear And Disease, My Life Would Be Like A Boat Without Oars.