I Wish To Die Painting.

Art First Of All Is Optical. That's Where The Material Of Our Art Is: In What Our Eyes Think.

Fruits ... Like Having Their Portrait Painted. They Seem To Sit There And Ask Your Forgiveness For Fading. Their Thought Is Given Off With Their Perfumes. They Come With All Their Scents, They Speak Of The Fields They Have Left, The Rain Which Has Nourished Them, The Daybreaks They Have Seen.

The Approbation Of Others Is A Stimulus Of Which One Must Sometimes Be Wary. The Feeling Of One's Own Strength Makes One Modest.

Talks On Art Are Almost Useless. The Work Which Goes To Bring Progress In One's Own Subject Is Sufficient Compensation For The Incomprehension Of Imbeciles.

I Am Beginning To Consider Myself Stronger Than All Those Around Me, And You Know That The Good Opinion I Have Of Myself Has Only Been Reached After Mature Consideration.