An Artist Cannot Do Anything Slovenly.

There Is A Stubbornness About Me That Never Can Bear To Be Frightened At The Will Of Others. My Courage Always Rises At Every Attempt To Intimidate Me.

Could There Be Finer Symptoms? Is Not General Incivility The Very Essence Of Love?

One Cannot Be Always Laughing At A Man Without Now And Then Stumbling On Something Witty.

I Have Now Attained The True Art Of Letter-writing, Which We Are Always Told, Is To Express On Paper Exactly What One Would Say To The Same Person By Word Of Mouth.

To Wish Was To Hope, And To Hope Was To Expect