Art Is Based On A Strong Sentiment

The Fate Of The Architect Is The Strangest Of All. How Often He Expends His Whole Soul, His Whole Heart And Passion, To Produce Buildings Into Which He Himself May Never Enter.

Who Strives Always To The Utmost, Him Can We Save.

Man... Knows Only When He Is Satisfied And When He Suffers, And Only His Sufferings And His Satisfactions Instruct Him Concerning Himself, Teach Him What To Seek And What To Avoid. For The Rest, Man Is A Confused Creature; He Knows Not Whence He Comes Or Whither He Goes, He Knows Little Of The World, And Above All, He Knows Little Of Himself.

For The Butterfly, Mating And Propagation Involve The Sacrifice Of Life, For The Human Being, The Sacrifice Of Beauty.

Wood Burns Because It Has The Proper Stuff For That Purpose In It; And A Man Becomes Renowned Because He Has The Necessary Stuff In Him. Renown Is Not To Be Sought, And All Pursuit Of It Is Vain. A Person May, Indeed, By Skillful Conduct And Various Artificial Means, Make A Sort Of Name For Himself; But If The Inner Jewel Is Wanting, All Is Vanity, And Will Not Last A Day.