For What A Man Would Like To

There Is No Passion In The Mind Of Man So Weak, But It Mates And Masters The Fear Of Death . . . Revenge Triumphs Over Death; Love Slights It; Honor Aspireth To It; Grief Flieth To It.

Very Few People Have A Natural Feeling For Painting, And So, Of Course, They Naturally Think That Painting Is An Expression Of The Artist's Mood. But It Rarely Is. Very Often He May Be In Greatest Despair And Be Painting His Happiest Paintings.

What Is Truth? Said Jesting Pilate; And Would Not Stay For An Answer.

God Hangs The Greatest Weights Upon The Smallest Wires.

They Are Happy Men Whose Natures Sort With Their Vocations.