Painting Isn't A Question Of Sensibility; It's

A Painting Is Not Thought Out In Advance. While It Is Being Done, It Changes As One’s Thoughts Change. And When It’s Finished, It Goes On Changing, According To The State Of Mind Of Whoever Is Looking At It

Everyone Wants To Understand Art. Why Don't We Try To Understand The Song Of A Bird? Why Do We Love The Night, The Flowers, Everything Around Us, Without Trying To Understand Them? But In The Case Of A Painting, People Think They Have To Understand.

I Want To Get To The Stage Where Nobody Can Tell How A Picture Of Mine Is Done. What's The Point Of That? Simply That I Want Nothing But Emotion Given Off By It.

They'll Sell You Thousands Of Greens. Veronese Green And Emerald Green And Cadmium Green And Any Sort Of Green You Like; But That Particular Green, Never.

Almost Every Evening, Either I Went To [georges] Braque's Studio Or Braque Came To Mine. Each Of Us Had To See What The Other Had Done During The Day. We Criticized Each Other's Work. A Canvas Wasn't Finished Unless Both Of Us Felt It Was.