Do you know the anecdote about Rubens? He was serving Holland as Ambassador to Spain and used to spend the afternoon in the royal gardens before his easel. One day a jaunty member of the Spanish Court...
What meaning has a compliment if one hears it night and day.
Wiedział dawniej, że można złamać rękę lub nogę i wyzdrowieć; do tej pory nie wiedział jednak, że można wyzdrowieć po ataku szaleństwa.
You can only have the courage and strength to do what you think is right. It may turn out to be wrong, but you will at least have done it, and that is the important thing. We must act according to the...
Știința este arta de a crea iluzii acceptabile.
Любовта е солта на живота; човек има нужда от нея, за да подчертае вкуса на света.
در دنیا مردمی لامذهب تر، سنگدل تر و دنیا پرست تر از کشیش ها یافت نمی شوندونسان ون گوگشور زندگی، ایروینگ ستون
[They say I imagine — it is not true — I remember.]
He did not know how much time passed. He got up, ripped the canvas off the frame, threw it into a corner, and put on a new one. He mixed some paints, sat down, and began work. One starts with a hopele...
I don’t know myself, he said. I sit down with a white board before the spot that strikes me, and I say, ‘That white board must become something!’ I work for a long time, I come back home dissatisfied,...
Nimeni nu poate scăpa de suferință, cel mai bun lucru pe care îl putem face e să nu suferim orbește.
Reading has always been the largest and most irreplaceable pleasure for Vincent; reading about other people's successes and failures, joys and sufferings seemed to bury his own failures.
The artist has to take risks.
The brooding is better than the joy because even if the heart fills with happiness, it still mourns.
There seemed to be that same fierce quest after truth, the same unafraid penetration, the same feeling that character is beauty, no matter how sordid it may appear.
There's no love without pain.
Toulouse-Lautrec blew in, winded from six flights of stairs, but still as hilarious and ribald as ever. Vincent, he exclaimed, while shaking hands, I passed an undertaker on the stairs. Was he looking...
Viața însăși îndreaptă spre om o față goală, nepăsătoare, descurajantă, pe care nu se citește nimic, ca și pe pânza asta goală. Dar omul nu se sperie de acest gol, pășește plin de încredere și de cura...
Vincent did not know how to express his feelings in words. He knew how to paint them.However, one cannot paint the farewell.
When I was young, Monsieur, he said, I used to think a lot about God. But He seems to have grown thinner with the years. He is still in that cornfield you painted, and in the sunset by Montmajour, but...
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