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.

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.

Everything changes, even stone.

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.

Listening only to my instincts, I discovered superb things.

My heart is forever in Giverny.

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