The First Virtue Of A Painting Is

As For The Ridiculous Fear Of Making Things Below One's Potential Abilities... No, There Is The Root Of The Evil. There Is The Hiding Place Of Stupidity I Must Attack: Vain Mortal, You Are Limited By Nothing.

One Never Paints Violently Enough.

Criticism Is Like Many Other Things, It Drags Along After What Has Already Been Said And Doesn't Get Out Of Its Rut.

Everyone Knows That Yellow, Orange, And Red Suggest Ideas Of Joy And Plenty. I Can Paint You The Skin Of Venus With Mud, Provided You Let Me Surround It As I Will.

One Must Learn To Be Grateful For One's Own Findings.