“Grey dawn was seeping into the sick room. I lay in the middle of the bed with my hands outside the bedclothes, looking straight ahead. Now I was in a pact with God. I had promised to serve him if I survived, if he allowed me to escape the tuberculosis. Now I could never be as before.”
More from Edvard Munch
“What is art really? The outcome of dissatisfaction with life, the point of impact for the…”
“My afflictions belong to me and my art - they have become one with me. Without illness and…”
“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.”
“My art is rooted in a single reflection: why am I not as others are? ..my art gives…”