I Allow No One To Touch Me.

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

An Optical Impression Is Produced On Our Organs Of Sight Which Makes Us Classify As Light, Half-tone Or Quartertone, The Surfaces Represented By Colour Sensations. So That Light Does Not Exist For The Painter.

With A Painter's Temperament, All That's Needed Are The Means Of Expression Sufficient To Be Intelligible To The Wide Public.

When I Start Thinking, All Is Lost.

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.