In Hatred As In Love, We Grow

It Gives Me No Joy To Be Praised At The Expense Of A Better Artist, By Someone Who Does Not Know The Difference Or Who Thinks Me Too Vain To Be Aware Of It Myself.

Often Beauty Grows Dull Or Common When Speech Breaks The Mask.

It Is Something, I Thought, When A King Can Put A Courtesan To The Blush.

Longing Performs All Things

How Can People Trust The Harvest, Unless They See It Sown?