Most Of The Basic Material

One Summer Evening In The Year 1848, Three Cardinals And A Missionary Were Dining Together In The Gardens Of A Villa In The Sabine Hills, Overlooking Rome.

Every Artist Makes Herself Born. You Must Bring The Artist Into The World Yourself.

The Sky Was A Midnight-blue, Like Warm, Deep, Blue Water, And The Moon Seemed To Lie On It Like A Water-lily, Floating Forward With An Invisible Current.

Life Was So Short That It Meant Nothing At All Unless It Were Continually Reinforced By Something That Endured; Unless The Shadows Of Individual Existence Came And Went Against A Background That Held Together.

Every Artist Makes Himself Born. It Is Very Much Harder Than The Other Time, And Longer.