My brushwork is quite unsystematic. I slam the paint on in all sorts of ways and leave each result to take care of itself.
Surely the true path is to dive deep into nature.
The sight of stars makes me dream.
Nature always begins by resisting the artist, but he who really takes it seriously does not allow that resistance to put him off his stride; on the contrary, it is that much more of a stimulus to fight for victory.
There certainly is an affinity between a person and his work, but it is not easy to define what this affinity is, and on that question many judge quite wrongly.
Even this artistic life, which we know is not real life, appears to me to be so alive and so vital that it would be a form ingratitude not to be content with it.
In the fullness of artistic life there is, and remains, and will always come back at times, that homesick longing for the truly ideal life that can never come true.
Art is but imitation of nature.
If one were to say but few words, though ones with meaning, one would do better than to say many that were only empty sounds, and just as easy to utter as they were of little use.
Life is not long for anybody, and the problem is only to make something of it.
If I did not succeed I still thought that what I had worked on would be continued. Not immediately. But there are others who believe in things that are true.
Purity of soul and impurity of body can go together.
What is true is that I have at times earned my own crust of bread, and at other times a friend has given it to me out of the goodness of his heart. I have lived whatever way I could, for better or for worse, taking things just as they came.
I am astonished at the high prices paid for works by painters who are dead, prices none of them could expect when they were alive. It is a kind of tulip trade, in which living painters suffer but do not profit.
Rembrandt is so deeply mysterious that he says things for which there are no words in any language.
Sometimes art seems to be something very sublime, and, as you say, something sacred.
To paint nature you must be in it a long time.
Painting demands an intelligent model.
For loneliness, worries, difficulties, the unsatisfied need for kindness and sympathy – that is what is hard to bear...
Art demands persistent work, work in spite of everything, and continuous observations. By persistent, I mean not only continuous work, but also not giving up your opinion at the bidding of such and such a person.