The Awareness Of Our Own Strength Makes

Whoever The Master Is Whom You Prefer, This Must Only Be A Directive For You. Otherwise You Will Never Be Anything But An Imitator.

Fruits ... Like Having Their Portrait Painted. They Seem To Sit There And Ask Your Forgiveness For Fading. Their Thought Is Given Off With Their Perfumes. They Come With All Their Scents, They Speak Of The Fields They Have Left, The Rain Which Has Nourished Them, The Daybreaks They Have Seen.

Yes, A Bunch Of Carrots, Observed Directly, Painted Simply In The Personal Way One Sees It, Worth More Than The Ecole's Everlasting Slices Of Buttered Bread, That Tobacco-juice Painting, Slavishly Done By The Book? The Day Is Coming When A Single Original Carrot Will Give Birth To A Revolution.

The Transposition That A Painter Makes With An Original Vision Gives To The Representation Of Nature A New Interest.

Everything Vanishes, Falls Apart, Doesn't It? Nature Is Always The Same But Nothing In Her That Appears To Us Lasts. Our Art Must Render The Thrill Of Her Permanence, Along With Her Elements, The Appearance Of All Her Changes. It Must Give Us A Taste Of Her Eternity.