Writing is a strong easement for perplexity. My life is a map, spread out with all the rivers and hills showing.

Sometimes I could quit paint and take to charring. It must be fine to clean perfectly, to shine and polish and know that it could not be done better. In painting that never occurs.

The earth is soaked and soggy with rain. Everything is drinking its fill and the surplus gluts the drains. The sky is full of it and lies low over the earth, heavy and dense. Even the sea is wetter than usual!

real art is religion, a search for the beauty of God deep in all things.

Art is art, nature is nature, you cannot improve upon it.... Pictures should be inspired by nature, but made in the soul of the artist. It is the soul of the individual that counts.

The spirit must be felt so intensely that it has power to call others in passing, for it must pass, not stop in the pictures.

You come into the world alone and you go out of the world alone yet it seems to me you are more alone while living than even going and coming.