I Am Only A Picture-taster, The Way

German Is Of Stone, Limestone, Pudding Stone, Marble, Granite Even, And So To A Considerable Degree Is English, Whereas French Is Bronze And Gives Out A Metallic Resonance With Tones That Neither German Nor English Tolerate.

Not What Man Knows But What Man Feels, Concerns Art. All Else Is Science.

Between Truth And The Search For It, I Choose The Second.

It Was A Morning In Early Summer. A Silver Haze Shimmered And Trembled Over The Lime Trees. The Air Was Laden With Their Fragrance. The Temperature Was Like A Caress. I Remember - I Need Not Recall - That I Climbed Up A Tree Stump And Felt Suddenly Immersed In Itness. I Did Not Call It By That Name. I Had No Need For Words. It And I Were One.

Taste Begins When Appetite Is Satisfied.