“I put on the canvas whatever comes into my mind.”

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

I drank to drown my sorrows, but the damned things learned how to swim.

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

People in general are scared to death of the war and all the exhibition have been a failure, because the rich – don’t want to buy anything.

I think that little by little I’ll be able to solve my problems and survive.

I want a storm to come and flood us into a song that no one wrote.

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.

The only other things I got from the abstract expressionists is the absolute belief that this canvas is the complete total area of struggle, this is the arena, this is where the fight is taking place, the battle.

I advance all of my canvas at one time.

There is always hope, as long as the canvases are empty.

I advance all of my canvas at one time.

The thoughts we choose to think are the tools we use to paint the canvas of our lives.

I am a canvas, that I design with colors of identity to madness filled masterpiece of worthiness.

An artist paints so much than his canvas.

A blank canvas is still better than a ruined painting.