All who, while unable to be saints but refusing to bow down to pestilences, strive their utmost to be healers.

To think the way you do, he said smiling, you have to be a man who lives either on a tremendous despair, or on a tremendous hope.

We must mend what has been torn apart, make justice imaginable again in a world so obviously unjust, give happiness a meaning once more to peoples poisoned by the misery of the century.

The last pages of a book are already contained in the first.

At any street corner the feeling of absurdity can strike any man in the face.

I asked what sort of 'trouble' we might expect. That he couldn't say; disasters always come out of the blue.

It is not your paintings I like, it is your painting.