We Must Not Be Content To Memorize

What I Am Trying To Translate To You Is More Mysterious, It Is Entwined In The Very Roots Of Being, In The Implacable Source Of Sensations.

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.

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.

People Think How A Sugar Basin Has No Physiognomy, No Soul. But It Changes Every Day.

May I Repeat What I Told You Here: Treat Nature By Means Of The Cylinder, The Sphere, The Cone, Everything Brought Into Proper Perspective So That Each Side Of An Object Or A Plane Is Directed Towards A Central Point. Lines Parallel To The Horizon Give Breadth... Lines Perpendicular To This Horizon Give Depth. But Nature For Us Men Is More Depth Than Surface, Whence The Need To Introduce Into Our Light Vibrations, Represented By The Reds And Yellows, A Sufficient Amount Of Blueness To Give The Feel Of Air.