Our mind has its own ideal time, which is no other but the consciousness of the progressive development of our beings.

The thinker requires exactly the same light as the painter, clear, without direct sunshine, or blinding reflection, and, where possible, from above.

Authorship is, according to the spirit in which it is pursued, an infamy, a pastime, a day-labor, a handicraft, an art, a science, a virtue.

That which exists in nature is a something purely individual and particular. Art, on the contrary, is essentially destined to manifest the general.

What a conception of art must those theorists have who exclude portraits from the proper province of the fine arts! It is exactly as if we denied that to be poetry in which the poet celebrates the woman he really loves. Portraiture is the basis and the touchstone of historic painting.

Literature is the immortality of speech.

Our mind has its own ideal time, which is no other but the consciousness of the progressive development of our beings.