But For One's Health As You Say,

The Canvas Has An Idiotic Stare And Mesmerises Some Painters So Much That They Turn Into Idiots Themselves.

If The Storm Within Gets Too Loud, I Take A Glass Too Much To Stun Myself.

It Is The Painting That Makes Me So Happy These Days.

It Always Strikes Me, And It Is Very Peculiar, That, Whenever We See The Image Of Indescribable And Unutterable Desolation—of Loneliness, Poverty, And Misery, The End And Extreme Of Things—the Thought Of God Comes Into One's Mind.

What A Simple Thing Death Is, Just As Simple As The Falling Of An Autumn Leaf.