My mountain is dead. As soon as she has dried, I'll bury her under a decent layer of white paint. But I haven't done with the old lady; far from it! — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
I thought my mountain was coming this morning. It was near to speaking when suddenly it shifted, sulked, and returned to smallness. It has eluded me again and sits there, puny and dull. Why? — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
It's all the unwordable things one wants to write about, just as it's all the unformable things one wants to paint - essence. — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
The biggest part of painting perhaps is faith, and waiting receptively, content to go any way, not planning or forcing. The fear, though, is… — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
The spirit must be felt so intensely that it has power to call others in passing, for it must pass, not stop in the… — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
Art being so much greater than ourselves, it will not give up once it has taken hold. — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
Oh, I wonder if I will ever feel the burst of birth-joy, that knowing that the indescribable, joyous thing that has wooed and wond… — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
Sometimes I could quit paint and take to charring. It must be fine to clean perfectly, to shine and polish and know that it… — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
How badly I want that nameless thing! First there must be an idea, a feeling... Maybe it was an abstract idea that you've got… — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
The sun enriched the old poles grandly... The mothers expressed all womanhood - the big wooden hands holding the child were so full of… — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
Look at the earth crowded with growth, new and old bursting from their strong roots hidden in the silent, live ground, each seed according… — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
Oh, the glory of growth, silent, mighty, persistent, inevitable! To awaken, to open up like a flower to the light of a fuller consciousness! — Emily Carr Copy Share Image
