My drawings at first were made altogether in watercolors, but they wanted softness and a great deal of finish.

Almost every day, instead of going to school when I ought to have gone, I usually made for the fields, where I spent the day.

The fact is I am growing old too fast, alas! I feel it, and yet work I will, and may God grant me life to see the last plate of my mammoth work finished.

The worse my drawings were, the more beautiful did the originals appear.

Hunting, fishing, drawing, and music occupied my every moment. Cares I knew not, and cared naught about them.

If only the bird with the loveliest song sang, the forest would be a lonely place.

I wish I had eight pairs of hands, and another body to shoot the specimens.