It's on the strength of observation and reflection that one finds a way. So we must dig and delve unceasingly.

The older I become the more I realize of that I have to work very hard to reproduce what I search: the instantaneous. The influence of the atmosphere on the things and the light scattered throughout.

I would like to paint the way a bird sings.

It was at home I learned the little I know. Schools always appeared to me like a prison, and never could I make up my mind to stay there, not even for four hours a day, when the sunshine was inviting, the sea smooth, and when it was joy to run about the cliffs in the free air, or to paddle in the water.

The light constantly changes, and that alters the atmosphere and beauty of things every minute.

What could be said about me...a man to whom only his painting matters? And of course his garden and his flowers as well.

Everything changes, even stone.