The Only Thing To Do Is To

What A Simple Thing Death Is, Just As Simple As The Falling Of An Autumn Leaf.

The World Concerns Me Only In So Far As I Have A Certain Debt And Duty To It, Because I Have Lived In It For Thirty Years And Owe To It To Leave Behind Some Souvenir In The Shape Of Drawings And Paintings – Not Done To Please Any Particular Movement, But Within Which A Genuine Human Sentiment Is Expressed.

Still, There Is A Calm, Pure Harmony, And Music Inside Of Me.

Ideas For Work Are Coming To Me In Abundance...i'm Going Like A Painting-locomotive.

That I Was Not Suited To Commerce Or Academic Study In No Way Proves That I Should Also Be Unfit To Be A Painter.