When An Intelligent Man Reaches The Point

Clouds Signify The Veil Of The Most High.

The Endless Legacy Of The Past To The Present Is The Secret Source Of Human Genius.

Love, According To Our Contemporary Poets, Is A Privilege Which Two Beings Confer Upon One Another, Whereby They May Mutually Cause One Another Much Sorrow Over Absolutely Nothing.

In The Silence Of Their Studios, Busied For Days At A Time With Works Which Leave The Mind Relatively Free, Painters Become Like Women; Their Thoughts Can Revolve Around The Minor Facts Of Life And Penetrate Their Hidden Meaning.

By Dint Of Making Sacrifices, A Man Grows Interested In The Person Who Exacts Them. Great Ladies, Like Courtesans, Know This Truth By Instinct.