When A Thing Bores You, Do Not

One Always Has To Spoil A Picture A Little Bit, In Order To Finish It.

Experience Alone Can Give, Even To The Greatest Talent, That Confidence In Having Done All That Could Be Done.

If Painters Left Nothing Of Themselves After Their Deaths, So That We Were Obliged To Rank Them As We Do Actors According To The Judgment Of Their Contemporaries, How Different Their Reputations Would Be From What Posterity Has Made Them!

What Is Real For Me Are The Illusions I Create With My Paintings. Everything Else Is Quicksand.

The True Wisdom Of The Philosopher Ought To Insist In Enjoying Everything. Yet We Apply Ourselves To Dissecting And Destroying Everything That Is Good In Itself, That Has Virtue, Albeit The Virtue There Is In Mere Illusions. Nature Gives Us This Life Like A Toy To A Weak Child. We Want To See How It All Works; We Break Everything. There Remains In Our Hands, And Before Our Eyes, Stupid And Opened Too Late, The Sterile Wreckage, Fragments That Will Not Again Make A Whole. The Good Is So Simple.