I would like to paint the way a bird sings.

Everything changes, even stone.

All of a sudden I had the revelation of how enchanting my pond was.

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.

The effect of sincerity is to give one's work the character of a protest. The painter, being concerned only with conveying his impression, simply seeks to be himself and no one else.

I work at my garden all the time and with love. What I need most are flowers, always. My heart is forever in Giverny.

I am very depressed and deeply disgusted with painting. It is really a continual torture.