The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.
As a painter I shall never signify anything of importance. I feel it absolutely.
One of the most difficult things to do is to paint darkness which nonetheless has light in it.
Painting is a faith, and it imposes the duty to disregard public opinion.
Still, there is a calm, pure harmony, and music inside of me.
I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart.
What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?
I feel the need of relations and friendship, of affection, of friendly intercourse. ... I cannot miss these things without feeling, as does any other intelligent man, a void and a deep need.
But are not this struggle and even the mistakes one may make better, and do they not develop us more, than if we kept systematically away from emotions?
Great things are not something accidental, but must certainly be willed.
Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together.
The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too
Art is to console those who are broken by life.
Only when I fall do I get up again.
It always strikes me, and it is very peculiar, that, whenever we see the image of indescribable and unutterable desolation—of loneliness, poverty, and misery, the end and extreme of things—the thought of God comes into one's mind.
Seek only light and freedom and do not immerse yourself too deeply in the worldly mire.
La tristesse durera toujours. [The sadness will last forever.]
Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.
Well, right now it seems that things are going very badly for me, have been doing so for some considerable time, and may continue to do so well into the future. But it is possible that everything will get better after it has all seemed to go wrong. I am not counting on it, it may never happen, but if there should be a change for the better I should regard that as a gain, I should rejoice, I should say, at last! So there was something after all!
You may know that the peony is Jeannin's, the hollyhock belongs to Quost, but the sunflower is mine in a way.