“Conscience is a man’s compass.”

Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me.

I tried to express through red and green the terrible passions of humanity.

The more I think about it, the more I realize there is nothing more artistic than to love others.

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

The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.

There is no such thing as an ugly woman.

It is with the reading of books the same as with looking at pictures; one must, without doubt, without hesitations, with assurance, admire what is beautiful.

So often, a visit to a bookshop has cheered me, and reminded me that there are good things in the world.

Close friends are truly life’s treasures. Sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves. With gentle honesty, they are there to guide and support us, to share our laughter and our tears. Their presence reminds us that we are never really alone.

Sometimes art seems to be something very sublime, and, as you say, something sacred.

I hope I shall be able to make some drawings in which there is something human.

I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.

Both she and I have grief enough and trouble enough, but as for regrets – neither of us have any.

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

Admire as much as you can. Most people do not admire enough.

What a simple thing death is, just as simple as the falling of an autumn leaf.