The Louvre is the book in which we learn to read. We must not, however, be satisfied with retaining the beautiful formulas of our illustrious predecessors. Let us go forth to study beautiful nature, let us try to free our mids from them, let us strive to express ourselves according to our personal temperaments. Time and reflection, moreover, little by little modify our vision, and at last comprehension comes to us.

Sometimes I imagine colors as if they were living ideas, being of pure reason with which to communicate. Nature is not on the surface, it is deep down.

I must be more sensible and realize that at my age, illusions are hardly permitted and they will always destroy me.

Optics, developing in us through study, teach us to see.

When I start thinking, all is lost.

I ask you to pray for me, for once age has overtaken us, we find consolation only in religion.

Tell me, do you think I'm going mad? I sometimes wonder, you know.