I have been seized by the power of a great affection.
My only objective is to paint a Christ so moving that those who see him will be converted.
A tree against the sky possesses the same interest, the same character, the same expression as the figure of a human.
For me, painting is a way to forget life. It is a cry in the night, a strangled laugh.
Subjective artists are one-eyed, but objective artists are blind.
Nothing is old, nothing is new, save the light of grace underneath which beats a human heart. The way of feeling, of understanding, of loving; the way of seeing the country, the faces that your father saw, that your mother knew. The rest is chimerical.
Anyone can revolt. It is more difficult silently to obey our own inner promptings, and to spend our lives finding sincere and fitting means of expression for our temperament and our gifts.
It's your gift, to see the beauty and the horror in ordinary things. It doesn't make you crazy, just different.
Resources are not taken from nature, but created from nature.
I never think that there's something I can't do, whether it's beating my opponent one on one or practicing another hour because something about my game is just not right.
We find our energies are actually cramped when we are overanxious to succeed.