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.

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

Knowledge of the means to express our emotion is essential- and is acquired only after a very long experience.

I want to die painting.

I allow no one to touch me.

Is it the factitious and the conventional that most surely succeed on earth and in the course of life?

Art is a harmony parallel with nature.