"The rich man who gives, steals twice over. First he steals the money and then the hearts of men."

"I don't have any more hope. Nothing to expect with joy so why work - why bother when I will have to eventually die one day. The knowledge to have done something great should be its own recompose. Whic…"

"The camera cannot compete with the brush and palette, it is far too clumsy."

"And I live with the dead – my mother, my sister [Sophie], my grandfather, my father [who died in 1889, when Munch was in France].. . Every day is the same – my friends have stopped coming – their laug…"

"Every person is a universe."