The Contour Eludes Me.

I'd Like To Combine Melancholy And Sunshine... There's A Sadness In Provence Which No One Has Expressed... I'd Like To Put Reason In The Grass And Tears In The Sky, Like Poussin.

I Am Not Altogether Displeased With The Shirt-front.

My Nervous System Is Very Much Weakened - Nothing But Painting In Oil Can Keep Me Going.

The Louvre Is The Book In Which We Learn To Read. We Must Not, However, Be Satisfied With Retaining The Beautiful Formulas Of Our Illustrious Predecessors. Let Us Go Forth To Study Beautiful Nature, Let Us Try To Free Our Mids From Them, Let Us Strive To Express Ourselves According To Our Personal Temperaments. Time And Reflection, Moreover, Little By Little Modify Our Vision, And At Last Comprehension Comes To Us.

The World Doesn't Understand Me And I Don't Understand The World, That's Why I've Withdrawn From It.