Mournful and yet grand is the destiny of the artist.
I did not compose my work as one might put on a church vestment… rather it sprung from the truly fervent faith of my heart such as I have felt it since my childhood.
Life is only a long and bitter suicide and faith alone can transform this suicide into a sacrifice.
Real men are sadly lacking in this world for when they are put to the test they prove worthless.
It is impossible to imagine a more complete fusion with nature than that of the Gypsy.
Supreme serenity still remains the Ideal of great Art. The shapes and transitory forms of life are but stages toward this Ideal which Christ’s religion illuminates with His divine light.