To see we must forget the name of the thing we are looking at.

Colors pursue me like a constant worry. They even worry me in my sleep.

I must have flowers, always, and always.

I've done what I could as a painter and that seems to me to be sufficient. I don't want to be compared to the great masters of the past, and my painting is open to criticism; that's enough.

Lots of people will protest that it's quite unreal and that I'm out of my mind, but that's just too bad

Now I really feel the landscape, I can be bold and include every tone of pink and blue: it's enchanting, it's delicious, and I hope it will please you.

One day I am satisfied, the next day I find it all bad; still I hope that some day I will find some of them good.