As long as autumn lasts, I shall not have hands, canvas and colors enough to paint the beautiful things I see.

I'll start with small things.

The worse I get along with people the more I learn to have faith in Nature and concentrate on her.

We have very beautiful bad weather here at present - rain, wind, thunder - but with splendid effects; that's why I like it.

Painting as it is now promises to become more subtle - more like music and less like sculpture - and above all it promises color. If only it keeps this promise.

I am not strictly speaking mad, for my mind is absolutely normal in the intervals, and even more so than before. But during the attacks it is terrible - and then I lose consciousness of everything. But that spurs me on to work and to seriousness, as a miner who is always in danger makes haste in what he does.

I am working with the enthusiasm of a man from Marseilles eating bouillabaisse, which shouldn't come as a surprise to you because I am busy painting huge sunflowers.