Doubtless There Are Things In

It's So Fine And Yet So Terrible To Stand In Front Of A Blank Canvas.

Under This Fine Rain I Breathe In The Innocence Of The World. I Feel Coloured By The Nuances Of Infinity. At This Moment I Am One With My Picture. We Are An Iridescent Chaos.

Taste Is The Best Judge. It Is Rare. Art Only Addresses Itself To An Excessively Small Number Of Individuals.

I Wished To Copy Nature. I Could Not. But I Was Satisfied When I Discovered The Sun, For Instance, Could Not Be Reproduced, But Only Represented By Something Else.

There Is A Logic Of Colors, And It Is With This Alone, And Not With The Logic Of The Brain, That The Painter Should Conform.