The clear French landscape is as pure as a verse of Racine.

You say a new era in art is preparing; you sensed it coming; continue your studies without weakening. God will do the rest.

I allow no one to touch me.

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.

Long live the sun which gives us such beautiful color.

I have sworn to die painting.

When I start thinking, all is lost.