The world, nature, human beings, do not move like machines. The edges are never clear-cut, but always frayed. Nature never draws a line without smudging it.

Just to paint is great fun. The colours are lovely to look at and delicious to squeeze out. Matching them, however crudely, with what you see is fascinating and absolutely absorbing.

Nature will not be admired by proxy.

I do not presume to explain how to paint, but only how to get enjoyment.

Nature does not complete things. She is chaotic. Man must finish, and he does so by making a garden and building a wall.

These births and deaths are changes in nature which we are mistaking for changes in us.