I Painted The Picture, And In The

I Was Walking Along The Road With Two Friends. The Sun Set. I Felt A Tinge Of Melancholy. Suddenly The Sky Became A Bloody Red... I Stood There, Trembling With Fright. And I Felt A Loud, Unending Scream Piercing Nature.

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.

The Way One Sees Is Also Dependent Upon One's Emotional State Of Mind. This Is Why A Motif Can Be Looked At In So Many Ways, And This Is What Makes Art So Interesting.

Death Is Pitch-dark, But Colors Are Light. To Be A Painter, One Must Work With Rays Of Light.

From The Moment Of My Birth, The Angels Of Anxiety, Worry, And Death Stood At My Side, Followed Me Out When I Played, Followed Me In The Sun Of Springtime And In The Glories Of Summer. They Stood At My Side In The Evening When I Closed My Eyes, And Intimidated Me With Death, Hell, And Eternal Damnation.