By working hard, old man, I hope to make something good one day. I haven't yet, but I am pursuing it and fighting for it . . . .

I will not live without love.

When I have a terrible need of - shall I say the word - religion. Then I go out and paint the stars.

I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure of myself, and the paintings appear as in a dream.

As practice makes perfect, I cannot but make progress; each drawing one makes, each study one paints, is a step forward.

I try more and more to be myself, caring relatively little whether people approve or disapprove.

I take great care of myself by carefully shutting myself away.