It is color, not locally true from the point of view of the stereoscopic realist, but color to suggest any emotion of an ardent temperament. When Pau… - Vincent van Gogh

Moments of melancholy, of distress, of anguish, I think we all have them, more or less, and it is a condition of every conscious human life. It seems that some people have no self-consciousness. But those who have it, they may sometimes be in distress, but for all that they are not unhappy, nor is it something exceptional that happens to them. And sometimes there comes relief, sometimes there comes new inner energy, and one rises up from it, till at last, some day, one perhaps doesn’t rise up any more, que soit, but that is nothing extraordinary, and I repeat, such is the common human fate, in my opinion.

is too high up in the air for my taste, too little on solid ground. And, after all, art itself is solid enough, that isn’t the trouble. But being a counting house is a passing thing, “être un comptoir cela passe,” is not a phrase of my own but of somebody whose sayings have come terribly true. I wish you were or would become a painter. I say this straight out, more emphatically than before, because I really believe that the great art-dealing business is in many respects a speculation like the bulb trade was. And the situations in it, dependent on chance and freaks of fortune.

People who do nothing but fall in love are perhaps more serious and saintly than those who sacrifice their love and their hearts to an idea.