I Cannot Help But Think

The Fact Is I Am Growing Old Too Fast, Alas! I Feel It, And Yet Work I Will, And May God Grant Me Life To See The Last Plate Of My Mammoth Work Finished.

The Mercantile Business Did Not Suit Me

If Only The Bird With The Loveliest Song Sang, The Forest Would Be A Lonely Place.

I Looked Long And Carefully At The Picture Of A Stag Painted By Landseer - The Style Was Good, And The Brush Was Handled With Fine Effect, But He Fails In Copying Nature, Without Which The Best Work Will Be A Failure.

How Could I Make A Little Book, When I Have Seen Enough To Make A Dozen Large Books?