One Must Do The Same

We Were Created To Look At One Another, Weren't We?

What Use Is My Mind? Granted That It Enables Me To Hail A Bus And To Pay My Fare. But Once I Am Inside My Studio, What Use Is My Mind? I Have My Model, My Pencil, My Paints. My Mind Doesn't Interest Me.

For Those Who Don't Know What They Are Doing, Painting Is Easy. For Those Who Do Know What They Are Doing, Painting Is Difficult.

I Have Been, Or Seemed, Hard With Everyone Because I Was Carried Away By A Sort Of Brutality Born Of My Distrust In Myself And My Ill-humor. I Have Felt So Badly Equipped, So Soft, In Spite Of The Fact That My Attitude Towards Art Seemed To Me So Just. I Was Disgusted With Everyone, And Especially Myself.

I Would Have Been In Mortal Misery All My Life For Fear My Wife Might Say, "that's A Pretty Little Thing," After I Had Finished A Picture.