Edvard Munch photo

Edvard Munch


“I felt as if there were invisible threads connecting us - I felt the invisible strands of her hair still winding around me - and thus as she disappeared completely beyond the sea - I still felt it, felt the pain where my heart was bleeding - because the threads could not be severed.”
Edvard Munch
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“I was walking along a path with two friends – the sun was setting – suddenly the sky turned blood red – I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence – there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city – my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety – and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.”
Edvard Munch
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“Your face encompasses the beauty of the whole earth. Your lips, as red as ripening fruit, gently part as if in pain. It is the smile of a corpse. Now the hand of death touches life. The chain is forged that links the thousand families that are dead to the thousand generations to come.”
Edvard Munch
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“ljubav je bozhansko osecanje i svaka nova zaljubljenost obavezno u sebi nosi i senku zhalosti zbog delica sopstvenog ja koje se daruje objektu strasti.”
Edvard Munch
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“Without anxiety and illness I should have been like a ship without a rudder.”
Edvard Munch
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“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them, and that is eternity.”
Edvard Munch
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“My fear of life is necessary to me, as is my illness. Without anxiety and illness, I am a ship without a rudder. My art is grounded in reflections over being different from others. My sufferings are part of my self and my art. They are indistinguishable from me, and their destruction would destroy my art. I want to keep those sufferings.”
Edvard Munch
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“From the moment of my birth, the angels of anxiety, worry, and death stood at my side, followed me out when I played, followed me in the sun of springtime and in the glories of summer. They stood at my side in the evening when I closed my eyes, and intimidated me with death, hell, and eternal damnation. And I would often wake up at night and stare widely into the room: Am I in Hell?”
Edvard Munch
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“The camera will never compete with the brush and palette until such time as photography can be taken to Heaven or Hell.”
Edvard Munch
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