La Station de Sevres.

I passed blindly many things which belong to real and political life.

What are you? What am I? Those are the questions that constantly persecute and torment me and perhaps also play some part in my art.

On my left the shooting had the sharp explosion of the infantry artillery, on my right could be heard the sporadic cannon shots thundering from the front, and up above the sky was clear and the sun bright.

Art is creative for the sake of realization, not for amusement... for transfiguration, not for the sake of play.

I do not weep: I loathe tears, for they are a sign of slavery.