I am risking my life for my work, and half my reason has gone.

There certainly is an affinity between a person and his work, but it is not easy to define what this affinity is, and on that question many judge quite wrongly.

Sometimes I long so much to do landscape, just as one would go for a long walk to refresh oneself, and in all of nature, in trees for instance, I see expression and a soul.

One must work and dare if one really wants to live.

Love is something eternal.

But after all I find in my work an echo of what struck me. I see that nature has told me something, has spoken to me, and that I have put it down in shorthand. In my shorthand there may be words that cannot be deciphered. There may be mistakes or gap

We are having wind and rain here, and I am very glad not to be alone. I work from memory on bad days, and that would not do if I were alone.