I Have Not Tried To Reproduce Nature;

Long Live The Sun Which Gives Us Such Beautiful Color.

The Louvre Is The Book In Which We Learn To Read.

Shut Your Eyes, Wait, Think Of Nothing. Now, Open Them ... One Sees Nothing But A Great Coloured Undulation. What Then? An Irradiation And Glory Of Colour. This Is What A Picture Should Give Us ... An Abyss In Which The Eye Is Lost, A Secret Germination, A Coloured State Of Grace ... Loose Conciousness. Descend With The Painter Into The Dim Tangled Roots Of Things, And Rise Again From Them In Colours, Be Steeped In The Light Of Them.

I Am Beginning To Consider Myself Stronger Than All Those Around Me, And You Know That The Good Opinion I Have Of Myself Has Only Been Reached After Mature Consideration.

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.