Every Offense Is Avenged On Earth.

Objects In Pictures Should So Be Arranged As By Their Very Position To Tell Their Own Story.

We All Walk In Mysteries. We Are Surrounded By An Atmosphere About Which We Still Know Nothing At All.

Upon The Creatures We Have Made, We Are, Ourselves, At Last, Dependent.

If You Want To Understand Poetry, You Have To Go To Its Origin, If You Want To Understand The Poet, You Have To Go To The Poet's Home.

I Nothing Had, And Yet Enough For Youth--joy In Illusion, Ardent Thirst For Truth. Give Unrestrained, The Old Emotion, The Bliss That Touched The Verge Of Pain, The Strength Of Hate, Love's Deep Devotion,--o, Give Me Back My Youth Again!