For me nature is not landscape, but the dynamism of visual forces.

As the artist picks his way along, rejecting and accepting as he goes, certain patterns of enquiry emerge.

Focusing isn't just an optical activity; it is also a mental one.

An artist's failures are as valuable as his successes: by misjudging one thing he conforms something else, even if at the time he does not know what that something else is.

If you can allow colour to breathe, to occupy its own space, to play its own game in its unstable way, it's wanton behaviour, so to speak. It is promiscuous like nothing.

The word 'paradox' has always had a kind of magic for me, and I think my pictures have a paradoxical quality, a paradox of chaos and order in one.

I never make studies from nature. They would get in the way. I make use of my mind.

It is important that the painting can be inhabited, so that the mind's eye, or the eye's mind, can move about it credibly.

It seems the deeper, truer personality of the artist only emerges in the making of decisions... in refusing and accepting, changing and revising.

Painting is a science pursued as an enquiry into the laws of nature...Observation is considered the key to natural science.

Painting is, I think, inevitably an archaic activity and one that depends on spiritual values.

No holy book is more inspired than the other. They are all inspired according to their gods.

For love I have invested my life with no return

I don't beg for those things which can be earned.

Friendship is never established as an understood relation. It is a miracle which requires constant proofs. It is an exercise of the purest imagination and of the rarest faith!

Between my music, my art, and my wrestling - and having the Hardy girls and a great wife - my life is complete.

Freddie and Brian tend to write the majority of the material.

I like to open new doors and blaze new trails through the jungle and all that whatnot. What keeps me goin all these years is changin it up.

It's hard to articulate what everybody else is feeling.

The strong ones among humans do nothing. They talk and talk again.

Count art by gold, and it fetters the feet it once winged.