One must conform to the baseness of an age or become neurotic.
Layer by layer art strips life bare.
All still lifes are actually paintings of the world on the sixth day of creation, when God and the world were alone together, without man!
In earlier times, one had an easier conscience about being a person than one does today. People were like cornstalks in a field, probably more violently tossed back and forth by God, hail, fire, pesti...
The thought came to me that all one loves in art becomes beautiful. Beauty is nothing but the expression of the fact that something is being loved. Only thus could she be defined.