One Lives But Once In The World.

The Biggest Problem With Every Art Is By The Use Of Appearance To Create A Loftier Reality.

Our Destiny Often Looks Like A Fruit-tree In Winter. Who Would Think From Its Pitiable Aspect That Those Rigid Boughs, Those Rough Twigs Could Next Spring Again Be Green, Bloom, And Even Bear Fruit? Yet We Hope It, We Know It.

Too Rigid Scruples Are Concealed Pride.

A Man Does Not Mind Being Blamed For His Faults, And Being Punished For Them, And He Patiently Suffers Much For Them; But He Becomes Impatient If He Is Required To Give Them Up.

One Is Never Satisfied With A Portrait Of Persons Whom One Knows. That Is Why I Have Always Pitied Portraitists. One Demands So Seldom Of Others The Impossible, But Demands Just That Of The Portraitists.