My countrymen have commissioned a bust of the Republic. It will be placed on the fountain of my native town.

I don't want to say anything because I know I am unable to protect you from the harm that I see.

Send me one hundred francs on our future deals, otherwise I will disappear in a cataclysm.

Madhouses are houses made on purpose to cause suffering . . . I cannot stand any longer the screams of these creatures.

I have all sorts of problems and feel discouraged.

I would have preferred to be successful here with a piece that cost me a huge amount of money and effort... rather than sending to Bohemia some ordinary works.

There is always something missing that torments me.