Claude Monet Quotes - Page 2

When I work I forget all the rest.

It took me time to understand my water lilies. I had planted them for the pleasure of it; I grew them without ever thinking of painting them.

For me, the subject is of secondary importance: I want to convey what is alive between me and the subject.

I am good at only two things, and those are gardening and painting.

These landscapes of water and reflection have become an obsession.

My only desire is an intimate infusion with nature, and the only fate I wish is to have worked and lived in harmony with her laws.

Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment.

Nature won't be summoned to order and won't be kept waiting. It must be caught, well caught.

the more I live, the more I regret how little i know

I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

I'm not performing miracles, I'm using up and wasting a lot of paint.

You'll understand, I'm sure that I'm chasing the merest sliver of color. It's my own fault. I want to grasp the intangible. It's terrible how the light runs out. Color, any color, lasts a second, sometimes 3 or 4 minutes at most.

My eyes were finally opened and I understood nature. I learned at the same time to love it.

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.

Now I really feel the landscape, I can be bold and include every tone of pink and blue: it's enchanting, it's delicious, and I hope it will please you.

I had so much fire in me and so many plans.

The older I become the more I realize of that I have to work very hard to reproduce what I search: the instantaneous. The influence of the atmosphere on the things and the light scattered throughout.

My work is always better when I am alone and follow my own impressions.

It's the hardest thing to be alone in being satisfied with what one's done.

I didn't become an impressionist. As long as I can remember I always have been one.

I'm continuing to work hard, not without periods of discouragement, but my strength comes back again.

Without the fog, London would not be a beautiful city. It is fog that gives it its magnificent amplitude...its regular and massive blocks become grandiose in that mysterious mantle.

One can do something if one can see and understand it.

I am very depressed and deeply disgusted with painting. It is really a continual torture.

My heart is forever in Giverny.