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.

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.

My only desire is an intimate infusion with nature, and the only fate I wish is to have worked and lived in harmony with her laws.

I waited for the idea to consolidate, for the grouping and composition of themes to settle themselves in my brain.

I want the unobtainable. Other artists paint a bridge, a house, a boat, and that's the end. They are finished. I want to paint the air which surrounds the bridge, the house, the boat, the beauty of the air in which these objects are located, and that is nothing short of impossible.

If the world really looks like that I will paint no more!

I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.