I Can No Longer Work Outside Because

One Day I Am Satisfied, The Next Day I Find It All Bad; Still I Hope That Some Day I Will Find Some Of Them Good.

I Am Enslaved To My Work, Always Wanting The Impossible, And Never, I Believe, Have I Been Less Favoured By The Endlessly Changeable Weather.

Paint What You Really See, Not What You Think You Ought To See; Not The Object Isolated As In A Test Tube, But The Object Enveloped In Sunlight And Atmosphere, With The Blue Dome Of Heaven Reflected In The Shadows.

Everything Changes, Even Stone.

As For Myself, I Met With As Much Success As I Ever Could Have Wanted. In Other Words, I Was Enthusiastically Run-down By Every Critic Of The Period.