One day Boudin said to me, 'Learn to draw well and appreciate the sea, the light, the blue sky.' I took his advice.

To see we must forget the name of the thing we are looking at.

Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love.

I must have flowers, always, and always.

It's on the strength of observation and reflection that one finds a way. So we must dig and delve unceasingly.

All I did was to look at what the universe showed me, to let my brush bear witness to it.

The light constantly changes, and that alters the atmosphere and beauty of things every minute.

Light is the most important person in the picture.

Every day I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.

It is a tragedy that we live in a world where physical courage is so common, and moral courage is so rare.

I would like to paint the way a bird sings.

A habit of labor in the people is as essential to the health and rigor of their minds and bodies as it is conducive to the welfare of the state.

Light on my heart, Light on my feet, Light in your eyes, I can't even speak Do you even know, How you make me weak

I suffer fools gladly because I am one of them.

I'm launching my own festival in South Wales. It's something I've wanted to do for a long time. It's going to be held at Margam Park, because I wanted the venue to be as close to my home as possible.

Love isn't what I have the opportunity to get from this world. Love is what I have the opportunity to give.

Love, I've come to understand, is more than three words mumbled before bedtime.

I'm not a very fast-paced person.

Longing is the core of mystery. Longing itself brings the cure. The only rule is, suffer the pain. Your desires must be disciplined And what you want to happen in time, sacrificed.

In spite of all the dishonour, the broken standards, the broken lives, The broken faith in one place or another, There was something left that was more than the tales Of old men on winter evenings.

He loved her, he loved her, and until he'd loved her she had never minded being alone.