Live As You Like Best, And Your

The Critical Sense Is So Far From Frequent That It Is Absolutely Rare, And The Possession Of The Cluster Of Qualities That Minister To It Is One Of The Highest Distinctions... In This Light One Sees The Critic As The Real Helper Of The Artist, A Torchbearing Outrider, The Interpreter, The Brother... Just In Proportion As He Is Sentient And Restless, Just In Proportion As He Reacts And Reciprocates And Penetrates, Is The Critic A Valuable Instrument.

I Don’t Think I Pity Her. She Doesn’t Strike Me As A Girl That Suggests Compassion. I Think I Envy Her... I Don’t Know Whether She Is A Gifted Being, But She Is A Clever Girl, With A Strong Will And A High Temper. She Has No Idea Of Being Bored...very Pretty Indeed; But I Don’t Insist Upon That. It’s Her General Air Of Being Someone In Particular That Strikes Me.

Little By Little, Even With Other Cares, The Slowly But Surely Working Poison Of The Garden-mania Begins To Stir In My Long-sluggish Veins.

We Work In The Dark - We Do What We Can - We Give What We Have. Our Doubt Is Our Passion, And Our Passion Is Our Task. The Rest Is The Madness Of Art.

...the Great Merit Of The Place Is That One Can Arrange One's Life Here Exactly As One Pleases...there Are Facilities For Every Kind Of Habit And Taste, And Everything Is Accepted And Understood.