The Life Of The Soul Is Incalculable.

I Stand In The Sunny Noon Of Life. Objects No Longer Glitter In The Dews Of Morning, Neither Are Yet Softened By The Shadows Of Evening.

We Cannot Have Expression Till There Is Something To Be Expressed.

I Am 'too Fiery'... Yet I Wish To Be Seen As I Am And I Would Lose All Rather Than Soften Away Anything.

Artists Are Always Young.

Certainly I Do Not Wish That Instead Of These Masters I Had Read Baby Books, Written Down To Children, And With Such Ignorant Dullness That They Blunt The Sense And Corrupt The Tastes Of The Still Plastic Human Being. But I Do Wish That I Had Read No Books At All Till Later - That I Had Lived With Toys, And Played In The Open Air. Children Should Not Cull The Fruits Of Reflection And Observation Early, But Expand In The Sun, And Let Thoughts Come To Them. They Should Not Through Books Antedate Their Actual Experiences.