“Little as we know about the way in which we are affected by form, by color, and light, we do know this, that they have an actual physical effect.”

The most important practical lesson than can be given to nurses is to teach them what to observe.

I am of certain convinced that the greatest heroes are those who do their duty in the daily grind of domestic affairs whilst the world whirls as a maddening dreidel.

The world is put back by the death of every one who has to sacrifice the development of his or her peculiar gifts to conventionality.

There is a physical, not moral, impossibility of supplying the wants of the intellect in the state of civilisation at which we have arrived.

Women have no sympathy and my experience of women is almost as large as Europe.

Unnecessary noise is the most cruel abuse of care which can be inflicted on either the sick or the well.

Let us never consider ourselves finished nurses, we must be learning all of our lives.

The very first requirement in a hospital is that it should do the sick no harm.

I never lose an opportunity of urging a practical beginning, however small, for it is wonderful how often in such matters the mustard-seed germinates and roots itself.

The night is given to us to take breath, to pray, to drink deep at the fountain of power.

I can expect no sympathy or help from my family.

Were there none who were discontented with what they have, the world would never reach anything better.

The next Christ will perhaps be a female Christ.

It may seem a strange principle to enunciate as the very first requirement in a Hospital that it should do the sick no harm. It is quite necessary nevertheless to lay down such a principle.

The ‘kingdom of heaven is within,’ indeed, but we must also create one without, because we are intended to act upon our circumstances.

I cannot remember the time when I have not longed for death. For years and years I used to watch for death as no sick man ever watched for the morning.

I will never know how you see red and you will never know how I see it. But this separation of consciousness is recognized only after a failure of communication, and our first movement is to believe in an undivided being between us.

Anybody who perceives colors can become a painter. It’s simply a question of whether or not one has felt anything and whether one has the courage to recount the things one has felt.

Some colors reconcile themselves to one another, others just clash.

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

By painting colors and lines and forms seen in quickened mood I was seeking to make this mood vibrate as a phonograph does. This was the origin of the paintings in The Frieze of Life.

We don’t hate nobody because of their color. We hate oppression!

As an artist I would like to eliminate the symbolic pretty much, for black is interesting not as a color but as a non-color and as the absence of color.

Can you imagine what it would be like to all of a sudden see another color that nobody else sees?