Or, looking at quite a different side, take the old magicians. Hieronymous Bosch, Rembrandt, and as a fantastic blossom from dry old England, William Blake, and you have quite a nice group of friends who can accompany you on your thorny way, the way of escape from human passion into the fantasy palace of art. Take long walks and take them often, and try your utmost to avoid the stultifying motor car which robs you of your vision, just as the movies do, or the numerous motley newspapers. Learn the forms of nature by heart so you can use them like the musical notes of a composition. That's what these forms are for.
Nature is a wonderful chaos to be put into order and completed.
Let others wander about, entangled and color blind, in old geometry books or in problems of higher mathematics. This alone is enough to make us forget the grief of the world, or to give it form. In any case, the will to form carries in itself one part of the salvation you are seeking. Nothing is further from my mind that to suggest to you that you thoughtlessly imitate nature. The impression nature makes upon you in it every form must always become an expression of your own joy or grief, and consequently in your formation of it, it must contain that transformation which only then makes art a real abstraction.