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.
It was at home I learned the little I know. Schools always appeared to me like a prison, and never could I make up my mind to stay there, not even for four hours a day, when the sunshine was inviting, the sea smooth, and when it was joy to run about the cliffs in the free air, or to paddle in the water.
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.
These landscapes of water and reflection have become an obsession.
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.
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!
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.
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