“Monet is only an eye, but my God, what an eye!”

Long live the sun which gives us such beautiful color.

A puny body weakens the soul.

You must think. The eye is not enough; it needs to think as well.

When the color achieves richness, the form attains its fullness also.

Sometimes I imagine colors as if they were living ideas, being of pure reason with which to communicate. Nature is not on the surface, it is deep down.

The artist makes things concrete and gives them individuality.

I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not really possible to help others.

What is one to think of those fools who tell one that the artist is always subordinate to nature? Art is a harmony parallel with nature.

I advance all of my canvas at one time.

An art which isn’t based on feeling isn’t an art at all.

We live in a rainbow of chaos.

Here, on the river’s verge, I could be busy for months without changing my place, simply leaning a little more to right or left.

Don’t be an art critic. Paint. There lies salvation.

I have to keep working, not to arrive at finish, which arouses the admiration of fools… I must seek completion only for the pleasure of being truer and more knowing.

Nature is more depth than surface, the colours are the expressions on the surface of this depth; they rise up from the roots of the world.

I am more a friend of art than a producer of painting.