In My Youth, Poverty Enriched Me, But

Art Is Foremost A State Of Mind, And Only Secondarily A Problem Of Form.

Art Seems To Me To Be Above All A State Of Soul.

What A Genius, That Picasso. It Is A Pity He Doesn't Paint.

Mozart Never Composed Anything, Ever! He Copied What Was Written On His Soul.

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?