For Almost Two Months Now

I Am Very Depressed And Deeply Disgusted With Painting. It Is Really A Continual Torture.

One Is Too Taken Up With All That One Sees And Hears In Paris, However Strong One Is, And What I Do Here [in Etretat] Will At Least Have The Merit Of Being Unlike Anyone Else, At Least I Believe So, Because It Will Simply Be The Expression Of What I, And Only I, Have Felt.

Perhaps It's True That I'm Very Hard On Myself, But That's Better Than Exhibiting Mediocre Work... Too Few Were Satisfactory Enough To Trouble The Public With.

I Do What I Can To Convey What I Experience Before Nature And Most Often, In Order To Succeed In Conveying What I Feel, I Totally Forget The Most Elementary Rules Of Painting, If They Exist That Is.

I Would Love To Do Orange And Lemon Trees Silhouetted Against The Blue Sea, But I Cannot Find Them The Way I Want Them.