Art Is The Path Of The Creator

It Is Very Unhappy, But Too Late To Be Helped, The Discovery We Have Made, That We Exist

I Wiped Away The Weeds And Foam, I Fetched My Sea-born Treasures Home; But The Poor, Unsightly, Noisome Things Had Left Their Beauty On The Shore, With The Sun And The Sand And The Wild Uproar.

Proportion Is Almost Impossible To Human Beings. There Is No One Who Does Not Exaggerate.

London Is The Epitome Of Our Times, And The Rome Of To-day.

I See It Only That Thyself Is Here, And Art And Nature, Hope And Fate, Friends, Angels And The Supreme Being Shall Not Be Absent From The Chamber Where Thou Sittest.