The Camera Will Never Compete With The

Your Face Encompasses The Beauty Of The Whole Earth. Your Lips, As Red As Ripening Fruit, Gently Part As If In Pain. It Is The Smile Of A Corpse. Now The Hand Of Death Touches Life. The Chain Is Forged That Links The Thousand Families That Are Dead To The Thousand Generations To Come.

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.

I Do Not Paint What I See, But What I Saw.

I Do Not Believe In The Art Which Is Not The Compulsive Result Of Man's Urge To Open His Heart

When I Paint A Person, His Enemies Always Find The Portrait A Good Likeness.