Two men stop to talk together: I pencil them in detail, beginning at the
head, for example; they separate and I have nothing but a fragment on my
paper. Some children are sitting on the steps of a church; I begin,
their mother calls them; my sketch-book becomes filled with tips of
noses and locks of hair. I make a resolution not to go home without a
whole figure, and I try for the first time to draw in mass, to draw
rapidly, which is the only possible way of drawing, and which is to-day
one of the chief faculties of our moderns. I put myself to draw in the
winking of an eye the first group that presents itself; if it moves on I
have at least put down the general character; if it stops, I can go on
to the details. I do many such exercises, and have even gone so far as
to cover the lining of my hat with lightning sketches of opera-ballets
and opera scenery.
_Corot._