I'd Like To Write The Way I

Take Care Not To Step On The Foot Of A Learned Idiot. His Bite Is Incurable.

There Are Two Sorts Of Beauty; One Is The Result Of Instinct, The Other Of Study. A Combination Of The Two, With The Resulting Modifications, Brings With It A Very Complicated Richness, Which The Art Critic Ought To Try To Discover.

It Was So Simple To Paint Things As I Saw Them; To Put Without Special Calculation A Red Close To A Blue.

Painting Is The Most Beautiful Of All Arts. In It, All Sensations Are Condensed, At Its Aspect Everyone May Create Romance At The Will Of His Imagination, And At A Glance Have His Soul Invaded By The Most Profound Memories, No Efforts Of Memory, Everything Summed Up In One Moment. Complete Art Which Sums Up All The Others And Completes Them.

Poor Artist! You Gave Away Part Of Your Soul When You Painted The Picture Which You Are Now Trying To Dispose Of.