Chatter About Art Is Almost Always Useless.

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

Painting From Nature Is Not Copying The Object; It Is Realizing One's Sensations.

Under This Fine Rain I Breathe In The Innocence Of The World. I Feel Coloured By The Nuances Of Infinity. At This Moment I Am One With My Picture. We Are An Iridescent Chaos.

Is Art Really The Priesthood That Demands The Pure In Heart Who Belong To It Wholly?

Nature Is The Best Instructor.