No Great Work Of Art

Dear To Me Is Sleep: Still More, Being Made Of Stone, While Pain And Guilt Still Linger Here Below, Blindness And Numbness--these Please Me Alone; Then Do Not Wake Me, Keep Your Voices Low.

I Am Still Learning. (at Age 87)

If We Have Been Pleased With Life, We Should Not Be Displeased With Death, Since It Comes From The Hand Of The Same Master.

You Must Know That I Am, Of All Men Who Were Ever Born, The Most Inclined To Love Persons. Whenever I Behold Someone Who Possesses Any Talent Or Displays Any Dexterity Of Mind, Who Can Do Or Say Something More Appropriately Than The Rest Of The World, I Am Compelled To Fall In Love With Him; And Then I Give Myself Up To Him So Entirely That I Am No Longer My Own Property, But Wholly His.

I Am A Poor Man And Of Little Worth, Who Is Laboring In That Art That God Has Given Me In Order To Extend My Life As Long As Possible.