A Good Impression Is Lost So Quickly.

I Am Enslaved To My Work, Always Wanting The Impossible, And Never, I Believe, Have I Been Less Favoured By The Endlessly Changeable Weather.

I'm In Fine Fettle And Fired With A Desire To Paint.

One's Better Off Alone, And Yet There Are So Many Things That Are Impossible To Fathom On One's Own. In Fact It's A Terrible Business And The Task Is A Hard One.

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

While Adding The Finishing Touches To A Painting Might Appear Insignificant, It Is Much Harder To Do Than One Might Suppose.