Nature Is Garrulous To The Point Of

A Line Is A Dot That Went For A Walk.

It Is A Great Difficulty And A Great Necessity To Have To Start With The Smallest.

My Hand Is Entirely The Implement Of A Distant Sphere. It Is Not My Head That Functions But Something Else, Something Higher, Something Somewhere Remote. I Must Have Great Friends There, Dark As Well As Bright. They Are All Very Kind To Me.

My Mirror Probes Down To The Heart. I Write Words On The Forehead And Around The Corners Of The Mouth. My Human Faces Are Truer Than The Real Ones.

Like People, A Picture Has A Skeleton, Muscles And Skin.