I'll always be grateful to the public of intelligent amateurs.
The landscape becomes human, becomes a thinking, living being within me. I become one with my picture...we merge in an iridescent chaos.
Monet is only an eye, but my God, what an eye!
When the color achieves richness, the form attains its fullness also.
I must be more sensible and realize that at my age, illusions are hardly permitted and they will always destroy me.
Time and reflection change the sight little by little 'till we come to understand.