To sit for one's portrait is like being present at one's own creation.

To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for.

A bottomless pit of violence, a Tower of Babel where all are speakers and no hearers.

My garden, with its silence and pulses of fragrance that come and go on the airy undulations, affects me like sweet music. Care stops at the gates, and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.

A single soul is richer than all the worlds.

Fame is but an inscription on a grave, and glory the melancholy blazon on a coffin lid.

Men praise poverty, as the African worships Mumbo Jumbo--from terror of the malign power, and a desire to propitiate at.