I'll start with small things.

I always think photographs abominable, and I don't like to have them around, particularly not those of persons I know and love. Those photographic portraits wither much sooner than we ourselves do, whereas the painted portrait is a thing which is felt, done with love.

Spring is the fresh green of young corn and the pink blush of blossoms. Autumn contrasts the yellowed foilage with violet hues. Winter is the white of snow against its black forms ... Summer is the contrast of blues and the golden bronze of the corn.

If boyhood and youth are but vanity, must it not be our ambition to become men?

One can speak poetry just by arranging colors well, just as one can say comforting things in music.

Keep your love of nature, for that is the true way to understand art more and more.

Let us keep courage and try to be patient and gentle. And let us not mind being eccentric, and make distinction between good and evil.