Man Is An Imitative Creature.

Art Is The Right Hand Of Nature. The Latter Has Only Given Us Being, The Former Has Made Us Men.

The Storm Is Master. Man, As A Ball, Is Tossed Twixt Winds And Billows.

You Worthy Critics, Or Whatever You May Call Yourselves, Are Ashamed Or Afraid Of The Momentary And Passing Madness Which Is Found In All Real Creators, The Longer Or Shorter Duration Of Which Distinguishes The Thinking Artist From The Dreamer. Hence Your Complaints Of Unfruitfulness, For You Reject Too Soon And Discriminate Too Severely.

Physical Beauty Is The Sign Of An Interior Beauty, A Spiritual And Moral Beauty Which Is The Basis, The Principle, And The Unity Of The Beautiful.

Wouldst Thou Know Thyself, Observe The Actions Of Others. Wouldst Thou Other Men Know, Look Thou Within Thine Own Heart.