A Person Himself Believes That All The

I Felt As If There Were Invisible Threads Connecting Us - I Felt The Invisible Strands Of Her Hair Still Winding Around Me - And Thus As She Disappeared Completely Beyond The Sea - I Still Felt It, Felt The Pain Where My Heart Was Bleeding - Because The Threads Could Not Be Severed.

When I Paint A Person, His Enemies Always Find The Portrait A Good Likeness.

I Don’t Believe In An Art That Is Not Born Out Of Man’s Need To Open His Heart.

My Fear Of Life Is Necessary To Me, As Is My Illness. Without Anxiety And Illness, I Am A Ship Without A Rudder. My Art Is Grounded In Reflections Over Being Different From Others. My Sufferings Are Part Of My Self And My Art. They Are Indistinguishable From Me, And Their Destruction Would Destroy My Art. I Want To Keep Those Sufferings

A Person Himself Believes That All The Other Portraits Are Good Likenesses Except The One Of Himself.