Colors Pursue Me Like A Constant Worry.

I'm In Fine Fettle And Fired With A Desire To Paint.

What Is It That's Taken Hold Of Me, For Me To Carry On Like This In Relentless Pursuit Of Something Beyond My Powers?

The Only Merit I Have Is To Have Painted Directly From Nature With The Aim Of Conveying My Impressions In Front Of The Most Fugitive Effects.

I Can No Longer Work Outside Because Of The Intensity Of The Light.

It Really Is Appallingly Difficult To Do Something Which Is Complete In Every Respect, And I Think Most People Are Content With Mere Approximations. Well, My Dear Friend, I Intend To Battle On, Scrape Off And Start Again.