Vincent van Gogh

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Frightening dreams are
silenced only by the blue
of Man’s suffering

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If you hear a voice
within you, disregard it
with your inmost strength

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If you don’t paint the
stars, your soul is forsaken,
a wisp of warm smoke

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I am still far from
God, lost, a churchwarden in
the dirtiest hut

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Life is a yellow
storm on an orange sea—a
fantasy of love

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My heart is the slave
of conscience without courage—
small deeds, small mistakes

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Religion is a
terrible certainty of
high-minded reason

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My faith is a poor
fisherman who is always
remaining ashore

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Fallibility
and discouragement fire the
imagination

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