I've Only Myself To Blame For It,

Think Of Me Getting Up Before 6, I'm At Work By 7 And I Continue Until 6.30 In The Evening, Standing Up All The Time, Nine Canvases. It's Murderous.

I've Been Working So Hard That I'm Exhausted... I Feel I Won't Be Able To Do Without A Few Weeks' Rest, So I'm Going Off To See The Sea.

I Am Following Nature Without Being Able To Grasp Her, I Perhaps Owe Having Become A Painter To Flowers.

The Creditors Are Proving Impossible To Deal With And Short Of A Sudden Appearance On The Scene Of Wealthy Art Patrons, We Are Going To Be Turned Out Of This Dear Little House Where I Led A Simple Life And Was Able To Work So Well. I Do Not Know What Will Become Of Us.

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.