God Is The Poetic Genius In Each

Harmony Of Colouring Is Destructive Of Art? It Is Like The Smile Of A Fool.

Shame Is Pride's Cloak.

I Must Create A System Or Be Enslaved By Another Mans; I Will Not Reason And Compare: My Business Is To Create.

He Who Shall Teach The Child To Doubtthe Rotting Grave Shall Ne'er Get Out.

I Asked A Thief To Steal Me A Peach: He Turned Up His Eyes. I Asked A Lithe Lady To Lie Her Down: Holy And Meek, She Cries. As Soon As I Went An Angel Came. He Winked At The Thief And Smiled At The Dame- And Without One Word Spoke Had A Peach From The Tree, And 'twixt Earnest And Joke Enjoyed The Lady.