I Had So Much Fire In Me

The Only Merit I Have Is To Have Painted Directly From Nature With The Aim Of Conveying My Impressions In Front Of The Most Fugitive Effects.

Getting Up At 4 In The Morning, I Slave Away All Day Until By The Evening I'm Exhausted, And I End By Forgetting All My Responsibilities, Thinking Only Of The Work I've Set Out To Do.

Colors Pursue Me Like A Constant Worry. They Even Worry Me In My Sleep.

The Point Is To Know How To Use The Colours, The Choice Of Which Is, When All's Said And Done, A Matter Of Habit.

I've Only Myself To Blame For It, My Impotence Most Of All And My Weakness. If I Do Any Good Work Now It Will Be Only By Chance.