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Who can see the wind?
Neither you nor I,
But when the trees bow their heads
The wind is passing by.

He loved the light
And flew to greet the sun,
So ends the night-
His day has just begun.

...some, it may be, can get in touch with nature there, or Earth, or such.

Nature...is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress.

...painting is another name for feeling.

...to him who in the love of nature holds communion with her visible forms, she speaks a various language

I never quite know what I am going to do, until I've done it.

Simply a matter of putting the right paint in the right place at the right time.

Nature has no outlines

In art, economy is always beauty.