Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. “Course I dream”, I tell her. ”Everybody dreams”. ”But what do you dream about?" she’ll ask. "The same thing everybody dreams about." I tell her. "I dream about where I’m going." She always laughs at that. "But you’re not going anywhere - you’re just wandering about." That’s not true. Not any more. I have a new destination. My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone’s. It’s taken me so many years, so many lifetimes, but at last I know where I’m going, where I’ve always been going.HOME.The long way round.
"Between you and me, in a hundred words, where do you think Van Gogh rates in the history of art?"
"Well… um… big question, but, to me Van Gogh is the finest painter of them all. Certainly the most popular, great painter of all time. The most beloved, his command of colour most magnificent. He transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. Pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world, no one had ever done it before. Perhaps no one ever will again. To my mind, that strange, wild man who roamed the fields of Provence was not only the world’s greatest artist, but also one of the greatest men who ever lived."