BERTHE MORISOT

I love only extreme novelty or the things of the past.

In love, there's sentiment and passion; I know only sentiment through myself, passion through others. I hear certain voices I know say: sentiment=love of the intellect; I can answer: passion=the love of the body.

Real painters understand with a brush in their hand.

A love of nature is a consolation against failure.

My ambition is limited to the desire to capture something transient, and yet, this ambition is excessive.

I wear myself out trying to render the orange trees so that they're not stiff but like those I saw by Botticelli in Florence. It's a dream that won't come true.

I don't think there has ever been a man who treated a woman as an equal and that's all I would have asked for, for I know I'm worth as much as they.

It is important to express oneself... provided the feelings are real and are taken from your own experience.

It is important to express oneself... provided the feelings are real and are taken from your own experience.

Real painters understand with a brush in their hand.

A love of nature is a consolation against failure.

I don't think there has ever been a man who treated a woman as an equal and that's all I would have asked for, for I know I'm worth as much as they.

My ambition is limited to the desire to capture something transient, and yet, this ambition is excessive.

I love only extreme novelty or the things of the past.

In love, there's sentiment and passion; I know only sentiment through myself, passion through others. I hear certain voices I know say: sentiment=love of the intellect; I can answer: passion=the love of the body.

I wear myself out trying to render the orange trees so that they're not stiff but like those I saw by Botticelli in Florence. It's a dream that won't come true.