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One evening I was walking along a path, the city was on one side and the fjord below. I felt tired and ill. I stopped and looked out over the fjord—the sun was setting, and the clouds turning blood red. I sensed a scream passing through nature; it seemed to me that I heard the scream. I painted this picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The color shrieked. This became The Scream.[9]

~ Munch

”Ut vil jeg! Ut! – å så langt, langt, langt over de høye fjelle.”

~ Bjørnson

”Dette er Romsdalens stride land!
Nu er jeg hjæmme;
thi alt, som jeg ser, har øje og stemme!
Og folket? – Jeg kænner hver eneste mand,
om aldrig jeg så ham. Her er han tolket:
kænner du fjorden, kænner du folket.”

~ Bjørnson