Great things are not something accidental, but must certainly be willed.

I often think of you all, one cannot do what one wants in life. The more you feel attached to a spot, the more ruthlessly you are compelled to leave it, but the memories remain, and one remembers - as in a looking glass, darkly - one's absent friends.

It seems to me it's a painter's duty to try to put an idea into his work.

But I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things.

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 you hear a voice within you say 'you cannot paint,' then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.

It is the language of nature to which one has to listen.