The More I Live, The More I

Nothing In The Whole World Is Of Interest To Me But My Painting And My Flowers.

It Was At Home I Learned The Little I Know. Schools Always Appeared To Me Like A Prison, And Never Could I Make Up My Mind To Stay There, Not Even For Four Hours A Day, When The Sunshine Was Inviting, The Sea Smooth, And When It Was Joy To Run About The Cliffs In The Free Air, Or To Paddle In The Water.

What Can Be Said About A Man Who Is Interested In Nothing But His Painting? It's A Pity If A Man Can Only Interest Himself In One Thing. But I Can't Do Any Thing Else. I Have Only One Interest.

These Landscapes Of Water And Reflection Have Become An Obsession.

It's The Hardest Thing To Be Alone In Being Satisfied With What One's Done.