What I am trying to translate to you is more mysterious, it is entwined in the very roots of being, in the implacable source of sensations.

There are two things in the painter, the eye and the mind; each of them should aid the other.

Everything vanishes, falls apart, doesn't it? Nature is always the same but nothing in her that appears to us lasts. Our art must render the thrill of her permanence, along with her elements, the appearance of all her changes. It must give us a taste of her Eternity.

Two sittings a day of my models and I'm totally exhausted.

I am the primitive of the method I have invented.

For an Impressionist to paint from nature is not to paint the subject, but to realize sensations.

Art first of all is optical. That's where the material of our art is: in what our eyes think.