From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.
Sickness, insanity and death were the angels that surrounded my cradle and they have followed me throughout my life.
Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye... it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.
Without anxiety and illness I should have been like a ship without a rudder.
For as long as I can remember I have suffered from a deep feeling of anxiety which I have tried to express in my art.
The colors live a remarkable life of their own after they have been applied to the canvas.
No longer shall I paint interiors with men reading and women knitting. I will paint living people who breathe and feel and suffer and love.
Death is pitch-dark, but colors are light. To be a painter, one must work with rays of light.
Disease, insanity, and death were the angels that attended my cradle, and since then have followed me throughout my life.
The rich man who gives, steals twice over. First he steals the money and then the hearts of men.
One can easily tell that the creator of the paintings in the Sistine Chapel was above all a sculptor.
In common with Michelangelo and Rembrandt I am more interested in the line, its rise and fall, than in color.
When I paint a person, his enemies always find the portrait a good likeness.
I have no fear of photography as long as it cannot be used in heaven and in hell.
I build a kind of wall between myself and t he model so that I can paint in peace behind it. Otherwise, she might say something that confuses and distracts me.
This kind of painting with its large frames is a bourgeois drawing-room art. It is an art dealer's art-and that came in after the civil wars following the French Revolution.
Some colors reconcile themselves to one another, others just clash.
By painting colors and lines and forms seen in quickened mood I was seeking to make this mood vibrate as a phonograph does. This was the origin of the paintings in The Frieze of Life.
A person himself believes that all the other portraits are good likenesses except the one of himself.
I painted the picture, and in the colors the rhythm of the music quivers. I painted the colors I saw.
