Colors live a remarkable life of their own after they have been applied to the canvas.

Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye... it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.

From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.

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.

What is art? Art grows from joy and sorrow, but mostly from sorrow. It grows from human lives.

I don’t believe in an art that is not born out of man’s need to open his heart.

All art, literature, and music must be born in your heart's blood. Art is your heart's blood.

There is a battle that goes on between men and women. Many people call it love.

The viewers must come to understand the sacredness of painting, so they will remove their hats as if they were in church.

Oil-painting is a developed technique. Why go backwards?

I do not believe in the art which is not the compulsive result of man's urge to open his heart

As soon as I laid eyes on him, it all came flooding back, all the reasons why I loved him, all the reasons why I hadn't been able to let him go.

No more sounds emerged as he walked through the forest, save the whisper of the leaves above. Though nothing further appeared out of the ordinary, he knew one thing for certain. He was not alone.

I'm more concerned about the salvation of souls than I am in promoting a particular party.

Celluloid will be the next decade's black and white.

Teaching doesn't relate to photographing, at least not for me.

I am only me for practical purposes.

I'm just trying to get rid of all the mystery surrounding me and let people see what I'm thinking. So they can understand me and stop assuming things about me.

Fatty, a bearded collie-terrier mix, is the kindest, cuddliest dog. And Oliver, a white golden retriever, even looks like me! My dogs have taught me to be more loving, more nurturing, and happier.

Improv. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but when it does, it's like open-field running.

By vulgarity I mean that vice of civilization which makes man ashamed of himself and his next of kin, and pretend to be somebody else.