Claude Monet also known as Oscar-Claude Monet or Claude Oscar Monet (November 14, 1840 – December 5, 1926) was a founder of French impressionist painting, and the most consistent and prolific practitioner of the movement's philosophy of expressing one's perceptions before nature, especially as applied to plein-air landscape painting.
Let this list of 27 quotations by the French painter Claude Monet lead you to an inspirational day. Recharge yourself with motivational nature, color, superb sayings, and satisfy your hunger for a better life.
What are the best Claude Monet quotes?
We've made this hand-picked collection of quotes to show you what is Claude Monet truly willing to say and leave for generations. Whether an inspirational quote or a motivational message about giving your best, we can all benefit from the wisdom, captured within these words.
I get madder and madder on giving back what I feel.
I'm in fine fettle and fired with a desire to paint.
I will do water - beautiful, blue water.
Gardening was something I learned in my youth when I was unhappy.
I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.
I work at my garden all the time and with love.
What I need most are flowers, always. My heart is forever in Giverny.
The creditors are proving impossible to deal with and short of a sudden appearance on the scene of wealthy art patrons, we are going to be turned out of this dear little house where I led a simple life and was able to work so well. I do not know what will become of us.
As for myself, I met with as much success as I ever could have wanted.
In other words, I was enthusiastically run-down by every critic of the period.
I despise the opinion of the press and the so-called critics.
Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment.
Now, more than ever, I realize just how illusory my undeserved success has been.
I still hold out some hope of doing better, but age and unhappiness have sapped my strength.
My heart is forever in Giverny.
It really is appallingly difficult to do something which is complete in every respect, and I think most people are content with mere approximations. Well, my dear friend, I intend to battle on, scrape off and start again.
I am pleased with the exhibition... everything on display was sold for a good price to decent people. It has been a long time since I believed that you could educate public taste.
It's enough to drive you crazy, trying to depict the weather, the atmosphere, the ambience.
I had so much fire in me and so many plans.
It is a tragedy that we live in a world where physical courage is so common, and moral courage is so rare.
Now I really feel the landscape, I can be bold and include every tone of pink and blue: it's enchanting, it's delicious, and I hope it will please you.
Paint what you really see, not what you think you ought to see;
not the object isolated as in a test tube, but the object enveloped in sunlight and atmosphere, with the blue dome of Heaven reflected in the shadows.
For a long time, I have hoped for better days, but alas, today it is necessary for me to lose all hope. My poor wife suffers more and more. I do not think it is possible to be any weaker.
I'm continuing to work hard, not without periods of discouragement, but my strength comes back again.
The point is to know how to use the colours, the choice of which is, when all's said and done, a matter of habit.
I pass my time in the open air on the beach when it is really heavy weather or when the boats go out fishing.
I do what I can to convey what I experience before nature and most often, in order to succeed in conveying what I feel, I totally forget the most elementary rules of painting, if they exist that is.
Nature won't be summoned to order and won't be kept waiting. It must be caught, well caught.
Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment.
To such an extent indeed that one day, finding myself at the deathbed of a woman who had been and still was very dear to me, I caught myself in the act of focusing on her temples and automatically analyzing the succession of appropriately graded colors which death was imposing on her motionless face.
To have gone to all this trouble to get to this is just too stupid! Outside there's brilliant sunshine but I don't feel up to looking at it.
I've spent so long on some paintings that I no longer know what to think of them, and I am definitely getting harder to please; nothing satisfies me.
My work is always better when I am alone and follow my own impressions.
Getting up at 4 in the morning, I slave away all day until by the evening I'm exhausted, and I end by forgetting all my responsibilities, thinking only of the work I've set out to do.
These landscapes of water and reflection have become an obsession.
I see less and less... I need to avoid lateral light, which darkens my colors. Nevertheless, I always paint at the times of day most propitious for me, as long as my paint tubes and brushes are not mixed up... I will paint almost blind, as Beethoven composed completely deaf.
The real subject of every painting is light.
My aim is to give you only the things with which I am completely satisfied, even if it means asking you a little more [time] for them... for if I were to do otherwise I'd turn into a mere painting machine and you would be landed with a pile of incomplete work which would put off the most enthusiastic of art collectors.
To see we must forget the name of the thing we are looking at.
You'll understand, I'm sure that I'm chasing the merest sliver of color.
It's my own fault. I want to grasp the intangible. It's terrible how the light runs out. Color, any color, lasts a second, sometimes 3 or 4 minutes at most.
I'm knocked out, I've never felt so physically and mentally exhausted, I'm quite stupid with it and long only for bed; but I am happy.
I've done what I could as a painter and that seems to me to be sufficient.
I don't want to be compared to the great masters of the past, and my painting is open to criticism; that's enough.
I have always worked better alone and from my own impressions.
My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece
I do have a dream, a painting, the baths of La Grenouillere for which I've done a few bad rough sketches, but it is a dream. Renoir, who has just spent two months here, also wants to do this painting.