The Flat Sound Of My

Nothing So Resembles A Daub As A Masterpiece.

Beautiful Colors Exist, Though We Do Not Realize It, And Are Glimpsed Behind The Veil That Modesty Has Drawn Over Them.

Nature Has Mysterious Infinities And Imaginative Power. It Is Always Varying The Productions It Offers To Us. The Artist Himself Is One Of Nature's Means.

There Are Two Sorts Of Beauty; One Is The Result Of Instinct, The Other Of Study. A Combination Of The Two, With The Resulting Modifications, Brings With It A Very Complicated Richness, Which The Art Critic Ought To Try To Discover.

My Eyes Close And Uncomprehendingly See The Dream In The Infinite Space That Stretches Away, Elusive, Before Me.