The Notes I Have Made Are Not

I Was Walking Along The Road With Two Friends. The Sun Set. I Felt A Tinge Of Melancholy. Suddenly The Sky Became A Bloody Red... I Stood There, Trembling With Fright. And I Felt A Loud, Unending Scream Piercing Nature.

A Work Of Art Can Only Come From The Interior Of Man. Art Is The Form Of The Image Formed Upon The Nerves, Heart, Brain And Eye Of Man.

In Common With Michelangelo And Rembrandt I Am More Interested In The Line, Its Rise And Fall, Than In Color

Oil-painting Is A Developed Technique. Why Go Backwards?

The Academies Of Art Are Nothing But Great Painting Factories - Those With Talent Are Fed In At One End, And They Come Out As Mechanical Painting Machines.