Claude Monet Quotes

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

Apart from painting and gardening I'm not good at anything.

For me a landscape does not exist in its own right since its appearance changes at any moment.

Color is my day-long obsession joy and torment.

I say that whoever claims to have finished a canvas is terribly arrogant.

Light is the most important person in the picture.

Critic asks: 'And what sir is the subject matter of that painting?' - 'The subject matter my dear good fellow is the light.

It would be asking too much to want to sell only to connoisseurs - that way starvation lies.

Techniques vary art stays the same; it is a transposition of nature at once forceful and sensitive.

People discuss my art and pretend to understand as if it were necessary to understand when it's simply necessary to love.

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

No one is an artist unless he carries his picture in his head before painting it and is sure of his method and composition.

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

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

I would advise young artists to paint as they can as long as they can without being afraid of painting badly.

I've always refused requests even from friends to employ a technique I know nothing about.

The richness I achieve comes from nature the source of my inspiration.

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.

While adding the finishing touches to a painting might appear insignificant it is much harder to do than one might suppose...

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

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

I insist upon 'doing it alone'... I have always worked better alone and from my own impressions.

It's enough to drive you crazy trying to depict the weather the atmosphere the ambience.

What I need most of all is color always always.

I work at my garden all the time and with love. What I need most are flowers always. My heart is forever in Giverny.

I've only myself to blame for it my impotence most of all and my weakness. If I do any good work now it will be only by chance.

All of a sudden I had the revelation of how enchanting my pond was.

I'm quite content: although what I'm doing is far from being as I should like I am complemented often enough all the same...

I would like to paint the way a bird sings.

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

I want to paint the air in which the bridge the house and the boat are to be found - the beauty of the air around them and that is nothing less than the impossible.

I would love to do orange and lemon trees silhouetted against the blue sea but I cannot find them the way I want them.

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

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.

I never draw except with brush and paint...

I have once more taken up things that can't be done: water with grasses weaving on the bottom. But I'm always tackling that sort of thing!

Despite my extremely modest prices dealers and art lovers are turning their backs on me. It is very depressing to see the lack of interest shown in an art object which has no market value.

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.

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

The real subject of every painting is light.

I will bring lots of studies back with me so I can work on some big things at home.

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

My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece

The effect of sincerity is to give one's work the character of a protest. The painter being concerned only with conveying his impression simply seeks to be himself and no one else.

It would be a very bad idea... to exhibit even a small number of this new series as the whole effect can only be achieved from an exhibition of the entire group.

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

Never even as a child would I bend to a rule.

Lots of people will protest that it's quite unreal and that I'm out of my mind but that's just too bad

Despite my exhaustion I have a devil of a time getting to sleep because of the rats above my bed and a pig who lives beneath my room...

I can no longer work outside because of the intensity of the light.

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.

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

One day I am satisfied the next day I find it all bad; still I hope that some day I will find some of them good.

My life has been nothing but a failure.

It is difficult to stop in time because one gets carried away. But I have that strength; it is the only strength I have.

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

I despise the opinion of the press and the so-called critics.

Ninety per cent of the theory of Impressionist painting is in . . . Ruskin's Elements.

Everything changes even stone.

Color is my daylong obsession joy and torment.

Colors pursue me like a constant worry. They even worry me in my sleep.

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.

I waited for the idea to consolidate for the grouping and composition of themes to settle themselves in my brain.

I'm enjoying the most perfect tranquillity free from all worries and in consequence would like to stay this way forever in a peaceful corner of the countryside like this.

Thanks to my work everything's going well; it's a great consolation.

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

The only merit I have is to have painted directly from nature with the aim of conveying my impressions in front of the most fugitive effects.

As for myself I met with as much success as I ever could have wanted. In other words I was enthusiastically run-down by every critic of the period.

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

Listening only to my instincts I discovered superb things.

I still have a lot of pleasure doing them but as time goes by I come to appreciate more clearly which paintings are good and which should be discarded.

I think only of my painting and if I were to drop it I think I'd go crazy.

I still don't know where I am going to sleep tomorrow.

I can only draw what I see.

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

I'm very happy very delighted. I'm setting to like a fighting cockerel for I'm surrounded here by all that I love.

I am pleased with the exhibition... everything on display was sold for a good price to decent people. It has been a long time since I believed that you could educate public taste...

It is only too easy to catch people's attention by doing something worse than anyone else has dared to do it before.

I have made tremendous efforts to work in a darker register and express the sinister and tragic quality of the place given my natural tendency to work in light and pale tones.

By the single example of this painter devoted to his art with such independence my destiny as a painter opened out to me.

Think of me getting up before 6 I'm at work by 7 and I continue until 6.30 in the evening standing up all the time nine canvases. It's murderous...

I'm knocked out I've never felt so physically and mentally exhausted I'm quite stupid with it and long only for bed; but I am happy...

I've been working so hard that I'm exhausted... I feel I won't be able to do without a few weeks' rest so I'm going off to see the sea.

Getting up at 4 in the morning I slave away all day until by the evening I'm exhausted and I end by forgetting all my responsibilities thinking only of the work I've set out to do.

Perhaps it's true that I'm very hard on myself but that's better than exhibiting mediocre work... too few were satisfactory enough to trouble the public with.

These landscapes of water and reflections have become an obsession. It's quite beyond my powers at my age and yet I want to succeed in expressing what I feel.

I donâ??t think Iâ??m made for any earthly kind of pleasure.

Zaandam has enough to paint for a lifetime.

When I work I forget all the rest.

My heart is forever in Giverny.

The Thames was all gold. God it was beautiful so fine that I began working a frenzy following the sun and its reflections on the water.

I am following Nature without being able to grasp her I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

Nothing in the whole world is of interest to me but my painting and my flowers.

I must have flowers always and always.

Gardening was something I learned in my youth when I was unhappy. I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

I sometimes feel ashamed that I am devoting myself to artistic pursuits while so many of our people are suffering and dying for us. It's true that fretting never did any good.

Most people think I paint fast. I paint very slowly.

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

I'm never finished with my paintings; the further I get the more I seek the impossible and the more powerless I feel.

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.

I'm in fine fettle and fired with a desire to paint.

I get madder and madder on giving back what I feel.

No I'm not a great painter. Neither am I a great poet.

What could be said about me...a man to whom only his painting matters? And of course his garden and his flowers as well.

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

What is it that's taken hold of me for me to carry on like this in relentless pursuit of something beyond my powers?

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

It seems to me that when I see nature I see it ready-made completely written - but then try to do it!

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.

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.

A good impression is lost so quickly...

If only the weather would improve there'd be hope of some work but every day brings rain.

Impressionism is only direct sensation. All great painters were less or more impressionists. It is mainly a question of instinct and much simpler than [John Singer] Sargent thinks.

To have gone to all this trouble to get to this is just too stupid! Outside there's brilliant sunshine but I don't feel up to looking at it...

If the world really looks like that I will paint no more!

These landscapes of water and reflection have become an obsession.

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 almost two months now I've been struggling away with no result.

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

I've said it before and can only repeat that I owe everything to Boudin and I attribute my success to him. I came to be fascinated by his studies the products of what I call instantaneity.

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

When I look at nature I feel as if I'll be able to paint it all note it all down and then you might as well forget it once you're working...

I do what I can to convey what I experience before nature and most often in order to succeed in conveying what I feel I totally forget the most elementary rules of painting if they exist that is.

I've spent so long on some paintings that I no longer know what to think of them and I am definitely getting harder to please; nothing satisfies me...

No one but myself knows the anxiety I go through and the trouble I give myself to finish paintings which do not satisfy me and seem to please so very few others.

Work is nearly always a torture. If I could find something else I would be much happier because I could use this other interest as a form of relaxation. Now I cannot relax.

It is better to have done something than to have been someone.

When it is dark it seems to me as if I were dying and I can't think any more.