My, how beautiful is war! its songs, its leisure!
Color is the fruit of life.
When man wanted to make a machine that would walk he created the wheel, which does not resemble a leg.
The plastic virtues: purity, unity, and truth, keep nature in subjection.
Paint with whatever material you please – with pipes, postage stamps, postcards or playing cards, painted paper, or newspapers.
We cannot carry our father’s corpse with us everywhere we go.
I hate artists who are not of their time.
Geometry is to the plastic arts what grammar is to the art of the writer.
Matisse renovates rather than innovates.
Without artists, the order which we find in nature, and which is only an effect of art, would at once vanish.
I sing the joy of wandering and the pleasure of the wanderer’s death.
In this mirror, I am enclosed a live and real as you. Imagine angels and not like the reflections.
One day One day I waited for myself I said to myself Guillaume it’s time you came So I could know just who I am I who know others.
I love men, not for what unites them, but for what divides them, and I want to know most of all what gnaws at their hearts.
Cubism is the art of depicting new wholes with formal elements borrowed not only from the reality of vision, but from that of conception.
It’s raining my soul, it’s raining, but it’s raining dead eyes.
To insist on purity is to baptize instinct, to humanize art, and to deify personality.
Without artists, the sublime idea men have of the universe would collapse with dizzying speed.
Twentieth pupil of the centuries knows its stuff and bird-changed this century like Jesus climbs the sky.
People quickly grow accustomed to being the slaves of mystery.