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

No one is an artist unless he carries his picture in his head before painting it, and is sure of his method and composition.

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.

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.

Apart from painting and gardening, I'm not good at anything.

I would like to paint the way a bird sings.