I've come to the conclusion that it's not really possible to help others.
I am more a friend of art than a producer of painting.
It is impossible for emotion not to come on us in thinking of that time now flowed away.
Is it the factitious and the conventional that most surely succeed on earth and in the course of life?
Is art really the priesthood that demands the pure in heart who belong to it wholly?
If isolation tempers the strong, it is the stumbling-block of the uncertain.
I'll always be grateful to the public of intelligent amateurs.
I must be more sensible and realize that at my age, illusions are hardly permitted and they will always destroy me.
I lack the magnificent richness of color that animates nature.
I have sworn to die painting.
I have nothing to hide in art. The initial force alone can bring anyone to the end he must attain.
I could paint for a hundred years, a thousand years without stopping and I would still feel as though I knew nothing.
Keep good company - that is, go to the Louvre.
Genius is the ability to renew one's emotions in daily experience.
Here, on the river's verge, I could be busy for months without changing my place, simply leaning a little more to right or left.