“I never paint dreams or nightmares. I paint my own reality.”

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.

Mankind owns its destiny, and its destiny is the earth. We are destroying it until we have no destiny.

I do not know whether my paintings are surrealist or not, but I do know that they are the frankest expression of myself.

When you stroll through Munich it can happen that you suddenly stand in front of an old house, an idyllically-dreaming church that smiles like a friendly anachronism into our modern time.

You ever be having a really good dream, and then, uh- right in the middle of the dream you wake up, right in the best part of the dream? And there you are, back in your stinkin’ life again? Man, that’s rough, eh?

To the oppressed with no seat on the table; dreaming of change and better days, I will pull up a chair, and light fires in your name.

Anything one man can imagine, other men can make real.

In my dreams you conjure me like a spell in the night. Let us haunt one another with uneasy peace, and die burning alive.

In my dreams we got past the parking lot; you took me past the old, oak door, led me up onto the vacant altar, and offered me to every god whose name you invoked as you worshipped my body.

I am strong. My heart still hopes. My mind still dreams. My soul still craves pouring energy into everything that I love.

Dream big don’t let anybody or anything break your wishbone. Stay strong, full of faith, and courageous. Keep that backbone straight. And along the way, don’t forget to laugh and enjoy the journey.