What My Art Probably Lacks Is A

When Looking At Any Significant Work Of Art, Remember That A More Significant One Probably Has Had To Be Sacrificed.

My Hand Has Become The Obedient Instrument Of A Remote Will.

In Earlier Days, Even As A Child, The Beauty Of Landscapes Was Quite Clear To Me. A Background For The Soul's Moods. Now Dangerous Moments Occur When Nature Tries To Devour Me; At Such Times I Am Annihilated, But At Peace. This Would Be Fine For Old People But I... I Am My Life's Debtor, For I Have Given Promises.

My Hand Is Entirely The Implement Of A Distant Sphere. It Is Not My Head That Functions But Something Else, Something Higher, Something Somewhere Remote. I Must Have Great Friends There, Dark As Well As Bright. They Are All Very Kind To Me.

It Is A Great Difficulty And A Great Necessity To Have To Start With The Smallest.