To Rankling Poison Hast Thou Turned In

To Know Thyself--in Others Self-concern; Would'st Thou Know Others? Read Thyself--and Learn!

The Universe Is A Thought Of God.

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.

Ever Building, Building To The Clouds, Still Building Higher, And Never Reflecting That The Poor Narrow Basis Cannot Sustain The Giddy Tottering Column.

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.