I was so bent on putting all my energy in its ['Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going'] before dying [suffering from syphilis, Gauguin decided to commit suicide at the end], such painful passion amid terrible circumstances, and such a clear vision without corrections that the hastiness of it disappears and life bursts from it. It does not stink of models, professionalism, and the so-called rules that I have always disregarded.

p. 160: Gauguin, in a letter from Tahiti to a friend - 'The Writings of a Savage' (1996)