All Life Is A Nap. The More

The Foolish Man Wonders At The Unusual, But The Wise Man At The Usual.

What Is There Of The Divine In A Load Of Brick? What ... In A Barber Shop? ... Much. All.

Tis Good-will Makes Intelligence.

In Our Fine Arts, Not Imitation, But Creation Is The Aim... The Details, The Prose Of Nature, He Should Omit, And Give Us Only The Spirit And Splendour.

Our Desires Presage The Capacities Within Us; They Are Harbingers Of What We Shall Be Able To Accomplish. What We Can Do And Want To Do Is Projected In Our Imagination, Quite Outside Ourselves, And Into The Future. We Are Attracted To What Is Already Ours In Secret. Thus Passionate Anticipation Transforms What Is Indeed Possible Into Dreamt-for Reality.