I Love A Tree More Than A

Handel, To Him I Bow The Knee.

The Real Artist Has No Pride. Unfortunately He Sees That His Art Has No Limits. He Feels Obscurely How Far He Is From The Goal. While He Is Perhaps Being Admired By Others, He Mourns The Fact That He Has Not Yet Reached The Point To Which His Better Genius, Like A Distant Sun, Ever Beckons To Him.

An Artist Is Someone Who Has Learned To Trust In Himself.

One Must Not Hold One's Self So Divine As To Be Unwilling Occasionally To Make Improvements In One's Creations.

It Seemed Unthinkable For Me To Leave The World Forever Before I Had Produced All That I Felt Called Upon To Produce