In the Yellow House

Paul: “No one knows the joy when you create.”
Vincent: “By definition, something out of nothing.”
Paul: “Colors, canvas, light…”
Vincent: “But Christ is the light, Paul.”
Paul: “The sunlight, Vincent, down in Arles…”
Vincent: “You painted nudes, I painted flowers.”
Paul and Vincent: “We drank the cloudy absinthe all night long. And the women we loved were loose, when we lived in the yellow house.”
Vincent: “In the yellow house, life was ideal.”
Paul: “By definition something one imagines.”
Vincent: “Painters, brothers, friends.”
Paul: “At least till the end came.”
Vincent: “Complete surprise, attack of rage…”
Paul: “A most peculiar place to shave.”
Paul and Vincent: In time our fine companionship went wrong, but our pictures are living proof of our years in the yellow house.”
Vincent: “Ruined studio of the south…”
Paul: “Three short months in the yellow house. I never knew that the malady was madness.
Vincent: “Neither did I, my friend. It sneaks up on you from behind.”
Paul: “I believed your condition had improved.”
Vincent: “I was convinced that hard work and our friendship would cure me.”
Paul: “I was blind to your suffering, forgive me.”
Vincent: “You always helped me when you could. You did your best, at least you tried.
Paul: “But not enough to distract you from the end.”
Vincent: “A wheat field with crows and those cypresses in Starry Night.”
Paul: “You painting sunflowers is how I remember you.”
Vincent: “Only my pistol can comfort this sadness tonight."