With an 'advanced' artist, it's not now possible to make a portrait.

Where the Old Masters created an illusion of space into which one could imagine walking, the illusion created by a Modernist is one into which one can look, can travel through, only with the eye.

Complete honesty has nothing to do with 'purity' or naivety. The full truth is unattainable to naivety, and the completely honest artist is not pure in heart.

All profoundly original art looks ugly at first.

If you want to change your art, change your habits.

Realistic, naturalistic art had dissembled the medium, using art to conceal art; Modernism used art to call attention to art.

Art is a matter strictly of experience, not of principles and what counts first and last in art is quality, all other things are secondary.

You like it, that's all, whether it's a landscape or abstract. You like it. It hits you. You don't have to read it. The work of art-sculpture or painting-forces your eye.

The reality of art is disclosed only in experience, not in reflection upon experience.

When you don't like something the words come more readily.

The difficulty of carrying on a leisure-oriented tradition of culture in a work-oriented society is enough in itself to keep the present crisis in our culture unresolved.

Motivation ignites a flame of fire within our spirit.

Never leave that till tomorrow which you can do today.

What an odd, ruminating, noisy, self-interrupting conversation we conduct with ourselves from birth to death.

It is your reaction to adversity, not the adversity itself, that determines how your life’s story will develop.

I know that life is a journey I must accept and that pain and confusion are temporary. I know that if I follow my heart, it will lead me where I belong.

Sometimes we become so sophisticated we have to read the New York Times in order to figure out whether it's a hot or a rainy day.

There's some people on the pitch... they think it's all over... it is now!

Wow, I do have all day and I get to choose.

I can make music, but I can't play it. I read somewhere that Grieg couldn't play his A-minor piano concerts very well, but he could write. My role was to compose things, but not really play it.

If only you knew what bliss I find in being nothing.