Painting is a language which cannot be replaced by another language. I don't know what to say about what I paint, really.

Painting is the passage from the chaos of the emotions to the order of the possible.

I always feel the desire to look for the extraordinary in ordinary things; to suggest, not to impose, to leave always a slight touch of mystery in my paintings.

Painting is a source of endless pleasure, but also of great anguish.

One must always draw, draw with the eyes, when one cannot draw with a pencil.

Painting what I experience, translating what I feel, is a great liberation. But it is also work, self-examination, consciousness, criticism, struggle.

The craft of painting has virtually disappeared. There is hardly anyone left who really possesses it. For evidence one has only to look at the painters of this century.

If you speak of beauty, you are at once suspected of...kitsch.

The best way to begin is to say: 'Balthus is a painter of whom nothing is known. And now let us have a look at the paintings'.

I refuse to confide and don't like it when people write about art.

I had only planned to strike the gong violently in order to somehow shake people up and make them more aware. I think I succeeded.

There ain't no "baby mama drama" up in this Vortex, homie!

When you begin to run after miracles you reduce yourself.

Songwriting is like a therapy, it's a connection that you have with another person, and I'm not scared of it at all for some reason.

I was brought up Catholic, and my family is still very religious.

I just don't like it when people get credited for their voice work and it's really shitty. It's really thin, there's nothing to it, there's no meat behind it. It's, like, "Oh, it's a celebrity."

I heard Nirvana, and discovered that songs could be like poetry, but a little bit more refined: you didn't have to have 20 verses to get your point across.

I do not want any patronage, as I do not give any. I am a lover of my own liberty, and so I would do nothing to restrict yours. I simply want to please my own conscience which is God.

Let me shake it off I just signed a couple deals I might break you off

The crack of the bat, the sound of baseballs thumping into gloves, the infield chatter are like birdsong to the baseball starved.

My cradle was a shoe.