I Despise The Opinion Of The Press

I'm Continuing To Work Hard, Not Without Periods Of Discouragement, But My Strength Comes Back Again.

Color Is My Day-long Obsession, Joy And Torment. To Such An Extent Indeed That One Day, Finding Myself At The Deathbed Of A Woman Who Had Been And Still Was Very Dear To Me, I Caught Myself In The Act Of Focusing On Her Temples And Automatically Analyzing The Succession Of Appropriately Graded Colors Which Death Was Imposing On Her Motionless Face.

I'm In Fine Fettle And Fired With A Desire To Paint.

I Perhaps Owe Having Become A Painter To Flowers.

These Landscapes Of Water And Reflections Have Become An Obsession. It's Quite Beyond My Powers At My Age, And Yet I Want To Succeed In Expressing What I Feel.