I have written my life in small sketches, a little today, a little yesterday . . . I look back on my life a good day's work, it was done and I feel satisfied with it. I made the best out of what life offered.

I have written my life in small sketches, a little today, a little yesterday . . . I look back on my life a good day's work, it was done and I feel satisfied with it. I made the best out of what life offered.

Painting's not important. The important thing is keeping busy.

I look back on my life a good day's work, it was done and I am satisfied with it.

And life is what we make it.
Always has been, always will be.

What a strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day.