The Lamps Are Burning And The Starry

If The Storm Within Gets Too Loud, I Take A Glass Too Much To Stun Myself.

I Am Astonished At The High Prices Paid For Works By Painters Who Are Dead, Prices None Of Them Could Expect When They Were Alive. It Is A Kind Of Tulip Trade, In Which Living Painters Suffer But Do Not Profit.

What Am I In Most People's Eyes? A Nonentity Or An Eccentric And Disagreeable Man... I Should Want My Work To Show What Is In The Heart Of Such An Eccentric, Of Such A Nobody.

I Use Color In A Completely Arbitrary Way In Order To Express Myself Powerfully.

For Great Things Do Not Done Just Happen By Impulse But Are A Succession Of Small Things Linked Together.