Perchance That I Might Learn

Genius Is Infinite Painstaking.

The Mind, The Soul, Becomes Ennobled By The Endeavour To Create Something Perfect, For God Is Perfection, And Whoever Strives After Perfection Is Striving For Something Devine.

The Best Of Artists Hath No Thought To Show Which The Rough Stone In Its Superfluous Shell Doth Not Include; To Break The Marble Spell Is All The Hand That Serves The Brain Can Do.

For Those Who Feel It, Nothing Makes The Soul So Religious And Pure As The Endeavor To Create Something Perfect; For God Is Perfection, And Whoever Strives After It, Is Striving After Something Divine. True Painting Is Only The Image Of The Perfection Of God, A Shadow Of The Pencil With Which He Paints, A Melody, A Striving After Harmony.

However Rich I May Have Been, I Have Always Lived Like A Poor Man.