Long Live The Sun Which Gives Us

The Approbation Of Others Is A Stimulus Of Which One Must Sometimes Be Wary. The Feeling Of One's Own Strength Makes One Modest.

My Nervous System Is Enfeebled, Only Work In Oils Can Sustain Me.

In Order To Make Progress, There Is Only Nature, And The Eye Is Turned Through Contact With Her.

I'll Always Be Grateful To The Public Of Intelligent Amateurs.

Everything Vanishes, Falls Apart, Doesn't It? Nature Is Always The Same But Nothing In Her That Appears To Us Lasts. Our Art Must Render The Thrill Of Her Permanence, Along With Her Elements, The Appearance Of All Her Changes. It Must Give Us A Taste Of Her Eternity.