I get madder and madder on giving back what I feel.

Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment.

When you go out to paint, try to forget what objects you have before you - a tree, house, a field....Merely think, here is a little square of blue, here an oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow, and paint it just as it looks to you, the exact color and shape, until it gives your own naive impression of the scene before you.

I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

For me, the subject is of secondary importance: I want to convey what is alive between me and the subject.

Without the fog, London would not be a beautiful city. It is fog that gives it its magnificent amplitude...its regular and massive blocks become grandiose in that mysterious mantle.

I don’t think I’m made for any earthly kind of pleasure.