How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be?

Ideas for work are coming to me in abundance...I'm going like a painting-locomotive.

My brushwork is quite unsystematic. I slam the paint on in all sorts of ways and leave each result to take care of itself.

I am a man of passions, capable of and subject to doing more or less foolish things- which I happen to regret, more or less, afterwards.

I am not an adventurer by choice but by fate.

Describing Starry Night: Firmament and planets both disappeared, but the mighty breath which gives life to all things and in which all is bound up remained.

I often think of you all, one cannot do what one wants in life. The more you feel attached to a spot, the more ruthlessly you are compelled to leave it, but the memories remain, and one remembers - as in a looking glass, darkly - one's absent friends.