Since visiting the abatoirs of S. France I have stopped eating meat.
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 . . . .
The great isn't something accidental; it must be willed.
As long as autumn lasts, I shall not have hands, canvas and colors enough to paint the beautiful things I see.
I wish they would take me as I am.
I've never felt a desire (and I don't believe I ever shall) to bring the public to my work... a certain popularity seems to me the least desirable of things.