For almost two months now I've been struggling away with no result.

Listening only to my instincts, I discovered superb things.

It is only too easy to catch people's attention by doing something worse than anyone else has dared to do it before.

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.

What I need most of all is color, always, always.

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

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.