The attacks of which I have been the object have broken the spring of life in me... People don't realize what it feels like to be constantly insulted.
Color is a matter of taste and sensitivity.
Insults are pouring down on me as thick as hail.
Who is this Monet whose name sounds just like mine and who is taking advantage of my notoriety?
I paint what I see and not what others like to see.
There are no lines in nature, only areas of colour, one against another.