I Shut My Eyes In Order To

Today One Can Dare Anything, And, Furthermore, Nobody Is Surprised.

Art Is Either A Plagiarist Or A Revolutionist.

But I Owe Something To Vincent, And That Is, In The Consciousness Of Having Been Useful To Him, The Confirmation Of My Own Original Ideas About Painting. And Also, At Difficult Moments, The Remembrance That One Finds Others Unhappier Than Oneself.

Under The Continual Contact With The Pebbles My Feet Have Become Hardened And Used To The Ground. My Body, Almost Constantly Nude, No Longer Suffers From The Sun. Civilization Is Falling From Me Little By Little. I Am Beginning To Think Simply, To Feel Only Very Little Hatred For My Neighbor - Rather, To Love Him.

A Critic Is Someone Who Meddles With Something That Is None Of His Business.