Everything Changes, Even Stone.

I Am Very Depressed And Deeply Disgusted With Painting. It Is Really A Continual Torture.

It Was At Home I Learned The Little I Know. Schools Always Appeared To Me Like A Prison, And Never Could I Make Up My Mind To Stay There, Not Even For Four Hours A Day, When The Sunshine Was Inviting, The Sea Smooth, And When It Was Joy To Run About The Cliffs In The Free Air, Or To Paddle In The Water.

I'm Enjoying The Most Perfect Tranquillity, Free From All Worries, And In Consequence Would Like To Stay This Way Forever, In A Peaceful Corner Of The Countryside Like This.

Now, More Than Ever, I Realize Just How Illusory My Undeserved Success Has Been. I Still Hold Out Some Hope Of Doing Better, But Age And Unhappiness Have Sapped My Strength.

I Have Once More Taken Up Things That Can't Be Done: Water With Grasses Weaving On The Bottom. But I'm Always Tackling That Sort Of Thing!