The Mountain Cannot Frighten One Who Was

The Moor Has Done His Work, The Moor May Go.

This Is The Curse Of An Evil Deed, That It Incites And Must Bring Forth More Evil.

A Noble Heart Will Always Capitulate To Reason.

I Speak With The Eternal Through The Instrument Of Nature, Through The World's History: I Read The Soul Of The Artist In His Apollo.

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.