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For almost two months now I've been struggling away with no result.
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I am very depressed and deeply disgusted with painting. It is really a continual torture.
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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.
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No, I'm not a great painter. Neither am I a great poet.
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I am good at only two things, and those are gardening and painting.
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Now, more than ever, I realize just how illusory my undeserved success has been. I still hold out some hope of doing better, but age and unhappiness have sapped my strength.
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I know that to paint the sea really well, you need to look at it every hour of every day in the same place so that you can understand its way in that particular spot; and that is why I am working on the same motifs over and over again, four or six times even.
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I would love to do orange and lemon trees silhouetted against the blue sea, but I cannot find them the way I want them.
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My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece.
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I let a good many mistakes show through when fixing my sensations. It will always be the same and this is what makes me despair.
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My aim is to give you only the things with which I am completely satisfied, even if it means asking you a little more [time] for them... for if I were to do otherwise I'd turn into a mere painting machine and you would be landed with a pile of incomplete work which would put off the most enthusiastic of art collectors.
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Apart from painting and gardening, I'm not good at anything.
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What can be said about a man who is interested in nothing but his painting? It's a pity if a man can only interest himself in one thing. But I can't do any thing else. I have only one interest.
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I can only draw what I see.
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Lots of people will protest that it's quite unreal and that I'm out of my mind, but that's just too bad.
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While adding the finishing touches to a painting might appear insignificant, it is much harder to do than one might suppose.
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Critic asks: 'And what, sir, is the subject matter of that painting?' - 'The subject matter, my dear good fellow, is the light.
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When it is dark, it seems to me as if I were dying, and I can't think any more.
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One can do something if one can see and understand it.
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The point is to know how to use the colours, the choice of which is, when all's said and done, a matter of habit.
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If the world really looks like that I will paint no more!
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I am enslaved to my work, always wanting the impossible, and never, I believe, have I been less favoured by the endlessly changeable weather.
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When you go out to paint, try to forget what objects you have before you - a tree, house, a field....Merely think, here is a little square of blue, here an oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow, and paint it just as it looks to you, the exact color and shape, until it gives your own naive impression of the scene before you.
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Take clear water with grass waving at the bottom. It's wonderful to look at, but to try to paint it is enough to make one insane.