Eyes...they Speak All Languages.

A Cynic Can Chill And Dishearten With A Single Word.

People Seem Sheathed In Their Tough Organization.

Give Me Truths For I Am Weary Of The Surfaces.

A Home Kept To The End Of Display Is Impossible To All But A Few Women, And Their Success Is Dearly Bought.

Painting Seems To Be To The Eye What Dancing Is To The Limbs. When That Has Educated The Frame To Self-possession, To Nimbleness,to Grace, The Steps Of The Dancing-master Are Better Forgotten; So Painting Teaches Me The Splendor Of Color And The Expression Of Form, And As I See Many Pictures And Higher Genius In The Art, I See The Boundless Opulence Of The Pencil, The Indifferency In Which The Artist Stands Free To Choose Out Of The Possible Forms.