“I wish I could do whatever I liked behind the curtain of madness.”

Pain, pleasure and death are no more than a process for existence. The revolutionary struggle in this process is a doorway open to intelligence.

I am not sick. I am broken. But I am happy to be alive as long as I can paint.

I was a child who went about in a world of colors. My friends, my companions, became women slowly; I became old in instants.

You deserve the best, the very best, because you are one of the few people in this lousy world who are honest to themselves, and that is the only thing that really counts.

There is nothing more precious than laughter.

I don’t know how to write love letters.

Of the opposite sex, I have the moustache and, in general, the face.

Painting completed my life. I lost three children and a series of other things that would have fulfilled my horrible life. My painting took the place of all of this. I think work is the best.

I love you more than my own skin.

Painting completed my life.

To paint is the most terrific thing that there is, but to do it well is very difficult.

Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic.

I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best.

Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?

I want to be inside your darkest everything.

My toys were those of a boy: skates, bicycles.