I Think Only Of My Painting, And

Everything Changes, Even Stone.

Every Day I Discover More And More Beautiful Things. It’s Enough To Drive One Mad. I Have Such A Desire To Do Everything, My Head Is Bursting With It.

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

The Point Is To Know How To Use The Colours, The Choice Of Which Is, When All's Said And Done, A Matter Of Habit.

I Intend To Do A Large Painting Of The Cliff At Etretat, Although It Is Terribly Bold Of Me To Do So After Courbet Has Painted It So Admirably, But I Will Try To Do It In A Different Way.