The First Virtue Of A Painting Is

Can Any Man Say With Certainty That He Was Happy At A Particular Moment Of Time Which He Remembers As Being Delightful? Remembering It Certainly Makes Him Happy, Because He Realizes How Happy He Could Have Been, But At The Actual Moment When The Alleged Happiness Was Occurring, Did He Really Feel Happy? He Was Like A Man Owning A Piece Of Ground In Which, Unknown To Himself, A Treasure Lay Buried.

Nourish Yourself With Grand And Austere Ideas Of Beauty That Feed The Soul Seek Solitude.

In Every Art We Are Always Obliged To Return To The Accepted Means Of Expression, The Conventional Language Of The Art. What Is A Black-and-white Drawing But A Convention To Which The Beholder Has Become So Accustomed That With His Mind's Eye He Sees A Complete Equivalent In The Translation From Nature?

Of Which Beauty Will You Speak? There Are Many: There Are A Thousand: There Is One For Every Look, For Every Spirit, Adapted To Each Taste, To Each Particular Constitution.

I Have Told Myself A Hundred Times That Painting - That Is, The Material Thing Called A Painting - Is No More Than A Pretext, The Bridge Between The Mind Of The Painter And The Mind Of The Spectator.