Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day; or the agonies which are have their origins in ecstasies which might have been.

I have before suggested that a genuine blackguard is never without a pocket-handkerchief.

A million candles have burned themselves out. Still I read on. (Montresor)

Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.

We gave the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in the Present, weaving the dull world around us into dreams.

No pictorial or sculptural combinations of points of human loveliness, do more than approach the living and breathing human beauty as it gladdens our daily path.

Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it 'the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.' The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of 'Artist.'