..her Smile, Which Was Her Pretty Feature,

It Is Art That Makes Life, Makes Interest, Makes Importance, For Our Consideration And Application Of These Things, And I Know Of No Substitute Whatever For The Force And Beauty Of Its Process.

Art Requires, Above All Things, A Suppression Of Self, A Subordination Of One's Self To An Idea.

The Artist Beholds In Nature More Than She Herself Nature Is Conscious Of.

It Was The Way The Autumn Day Looked Into The High Windows As It Waned; The Way The Red Light, Breaking At The Close From Under A Low Sombre Sky, Reached Out In A Long Shaft And Played Over Old Wainscots, Old Tapestry, Old Gold, Old Colour.

Always Keep A Window In The Attic Open; Not Just Cracked: Open.