What I Have Done Cannot

Do Not Be Troubled For A Language, Cultivate Your Soul And She Will Show Herself.

Real Beauty In The Arts Is Eternal And Would Be Accepted At All Periods; But It Wears The Dress Of Its Century: Something Of That Dress Clings To It, And Woe To The Works Which Appear In Periods When The General Taste Is Corrupted.

Glory To That Homer Of Painting, To That Father Of Warmth And Enthusiasm... He Really Paints Men.

God Is That Inner Presence Which Makes Us Admire The Beautiful And Consoles Us For Not Sharing The Happiness Of The Wicked.

The Source Of Genius Is Imagination Alone.