So often, a visit to a bookshop has cheered me, and reminded me that there are good things in the world.

One of the hardest things to do is to paint darkness which nonetheless has light in it.

How rich art is, if one can only remember what one has seen, one is never empty of thoughts or truly lonely, never alone.

I'm now painting with all the elan of a Marseillais eating soup, which won't surprise you when I tell you I'm painting large sunflowers. The idea? To decorate the studio, now there's hope of Gauguin living here. I aim at a dozen panels of sunflowers in the room I've set aside for Gauguin.

Someday death will take us to another star.

So let us go forward quietly, each on his own path, forever making for the light.

No, no thought to the winnings. One loves because one loves.