Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
I can only draw what I see.
Everything changes, even stone.
My heart is forever in Giverny.
When I work I forget all the rest.
A good impression is lost so quickly.
My life has been nothing but a failure.
I must have flowers, always, and always.
I will do water - beautiful, blue water.
I never draw except with brush and paint.
My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece
Zaandam has enough to paint for a lifetime.
I would like to paint the way a bird sings.
I had so much fire in me and so many plans.
The real subject of every painting is light.
Never, even as a child, would I bend to a rule.
Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment.
I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.
What I need most of all is color, always, always.
Light is the most important person in the picture.
I get madder and madder on giving back what I feel.
I'm in fine fettle and fired with a desire to paint.
the more I live, the more I regret how little i know
Most people think I paint fast. I paint very slowly.
I still don't know where I am going to sleep tomorrow.
One can do something if one can see and understand it.
No, I'm not a great painter. Neither am I a great poet.
I don’t think I’m made for any earthly kind of pleasure.
If the world really looks like that I will paint no more!
Listening only to my instincts, I discovered superb things.
Apart from painting and gardening, I'm not good at anything.
I despise the opinion of the press and the so-called critics.
I have always worked better alone and from my own impressions.
To see we must forget the name of the thing we are looking at.
It is better to have done something than to have been someone.
These landscapes of water and reflection have become an obsession.
I can no longer work outside because of the intensity of the light.
For almost two months now I've been struggling away with no result.
I am good at only two things, and those are gardening and painting.
All of a sudden I had the revelation of how enchanting my pond was.
Thanks to my work everything's going well; it's a great consolation.
I'm not performing miracles, I'm using up and wasting a lot of paint.
Colors pursue me like a constant worry. They even worry me in my sleep.
The richness I achieve comes from nature, the source of my inspiration.
My work is always better when I am alone and follow my own impressions.
I say that whoever claims to have finished a canvas is terribly arrogant.
My wish is to stay always like this, living quietly in a corner of nature.
It's the hardest thing to be alone in being satisfied with what one's done.
I think only of my painting, and if I were to drop it, I think I'd go crazy.
When it is dark, it seems to me as if I were dying, and I can't think any more.
Nothing in the whole world is of interest to me but my painting and my flowers.