The mystic too full of God to speak intelligibly to the world.

A realist, in Venice, would become a romantic by mere faithfulness to what he saw before him.

Night, a more perfect day.

Vaguely conscious of that great suspense in which we live, we find our escape from its sterile, annihilating reality in many dreams, in religion, passion, art.

My soul is like this cloudy, flaming opal ring.

Here in a little lonely room I am master of earth and sea, And the planets come to me.

The making of one's life into art is, after all, the first duty and privilege of every man.