In Portraits, The Grace And, We May

Whatever Trips You Make, You Must Still Have Nature In Your Eye.

Nothing Can Come Of Nothing; He Who Has Laid Up No Materials Can Produce No Combinations.

It Is Vain For Painters... To Endeavour To Invent Without Materials On Which The Mind May Work.

The True Test Of All The Arts Is Not Solely Whether The Production Is A True Copy Of Nature, But Whether It Answers The End Of Art, Which Is To Produce A Pleasing Effect Upon The Mind.

The Mind Is But A Barren Soil; A Soil Which Is Soon Exhausted, And Will Produce No Crop, Or Only One, Unless It Be Continually Fertilized And Enriched With Foreign Matter.