I am gradually approaching the period in my life when work comes first. When both the boys went away for Easter, I hardly did anything but work. Worked, slept, ate and went for short walks. But above all I worked. And yet I wonder whether the 'blessing' is not missing from such work. No longer diverted by other emotions, I work the way a cow grazes.

My work is not, of course, pure art in the sense that Schmidt-Rottluff's is, but it is art nonetheless... It is all right with me that my work serves a purpose…

For the last third of life there remains only work. It alone is always stimulating, rejuvenating, exciting and satisfying.

The working-class woman shows me much more than the ladies who are totally limited by conventional behavior. The working-class woman shows me her hands, her fe…