I Work At My Garden

I Can No Longer Work Outside Because Of The Intensity Of The Light.

The More I Live, The More I Regret How Little I Know

I Work At My Garden All The Time And With Love. What I Need Most Are Flowers, Always. My Heart Is Forever In Giverny.

I Haven't Many Years Left Ahead Of Me And I Must Devote All My Time To Painting, In The Hope Of Achieving Something Worthwhile In The End, Something If Possible That Will Satisfy Me.

I Despise The Opinion Of The Press And The So-called Critics.