At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can
Feet, what do I need them for If I have wings to fly
I don’t paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality.
I love you more than my own skin and even though you don’t love me the same way, you love me anyways, don’t you? And if you don’t, I’ll always have the hope that you do, and i’m satisfied with that. Love me a little. I adore you.
I hope the exit is joyful and i hope never to return.
Nothing is absolute. Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves, everything flies and goes away
I paint flowers so they will not die.
Nothing is worth more than laughter. It is strength to laugh and to abandon oneself, to be light. Tragedy is the most ridiculous thing
I paint myself because I am so often alone and because I am the subject I know best
I think that little by little I’ll be able to solve my problems and survive.
I paint my own reality. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.
There is nothing more precious than laughter
I am that clumsy human, always loving, loving, loving. And loving. And never leaving
I am my own muse. I am the subject I know best. The subject I want to better.
Only one mountain can know the core of another mountain.
To feel the anguish of waiting for the next moment and of taking part in the complex current (of affairs) not knowing that we are headed toward ourselves, through millions of stone beings – of bird beings – of star beings – of microbe beings – of fountain beings toward ourselves
I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me, too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it’s true I’m here, and I’m just as strange as you.
I never paint dreams or nightmares. I paint my own reality.
They thought I was a Surrealist, but I wasn’t. I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.
Nothing is absolute. Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves, everything flies and goes away.