I Am A Great Artist And I

Thanks To Our Cinctures And Corsets We Have Succeeded In Making An Artificial Being Out Of Woman. She Is An Anomaly, And Nature Herself, Obedient To The Laws Of Heredity, Aids Us In Complicating And Enervating Her. We Carefully Keep Her In A State Of Nervous Weakness And Muscular Inferiority, And In Guarding Her From Fatigue, We Take Away From Her Possibilities Of Development. Thus Modeled On A Bizarre Ideal Of Slenderness To Which, Strangely Enough, We Continue To Adhere, Our Women Have Nothing In Common With Us, And This, Perhaps, May Not Be Without Grave Moral And Social Disadvantages.

In Art There Are Only Two Types Of People: Revolutionaries And Plagiarists

There Are Two Sorts Of Beauty; One Is The Result Of Instinct, The Other Of Study. A Combination Of The Two, With The Resulting Modifications, Brings With It A Very Complicated Richness, Which The Art Critic Ought To Try To Discover.

Oh Mysterious World Of All Light, Thou Hast Made A Light Shine Within Me, And I Have Grown In Admiration Of Thy Antique Beauty, Which Is The Immemorial Youth Of Nature.

With Practice The Craft Will Come Almost Of Itself, In Spite Of You And All The More Easitly If You Think Of Something Besides Technique.