Only The Soul That Loves Is Happy

One Is Never Satisfied With The Portrait Of A Person That One Knows.

I Am A Part Of The Part That At First Was All, Part Of The Darkness That Gave Birth To The Light, That Supercilious Light Which Now Disputes With Mother Night Her Ancient Rank And Space, And Yet Cannot Succeed; No Matter How It Struggles, It Sticks To Matter And Can't Get Free. Light Flows From Substance, Makes It Beautiful.

Dream No Small Dreams For They Have No Power To Move The Hearts Of Men.

Most Men, Even The Most Accomplished, Are Of Limited Faculties; Every One Sets A Value On Certain Qualities In Himself And Others: These Alone He Is Willing To Favour, These Alone Will He Have Cultivated.

Mannerism Always Wants To Be Finished And Doesn't Enjoy The Process. Genuine, Truly Great Talent, However, Finds Its Greatest Satisfaction In The Production.