I Was Oppressed With The

The Artist Who Is Not Also A Craftsman Is No Good; But, Alas, Most Of Our Artists Are Nothing Else.

The Artist Alone Sees Spirits. But After He Has Told Of Their Appearing To Him, Everybody Sees Them.

He Who Would Reproach An Author For Obscurity Should Look Into His Own Mind To See Whether It Is Quite Clear There. In The Dusk The Plainest Writing Is Illegible.

As Beauteous Is The World, And Many A Joy Floats Through Its Wide Dominion. But, Alas, When We Would Seize The Winged Good, It Flies.

If In The Infinite You Want To Stride, Just Walk In The Finite To Every Side.