Life, struck sharp on death, Makes awful lightning.

The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, 'Let no one be called happy till his death;' to which I would add, 'Let no one, till his death, be called unhappy.'

But so fair, She takes the breath of men away Who gaze upon her unaware.

Love that endures, from life that disappears!

Don't get me wrong-painting's all right. But now that we have photography, what's the point?

An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.

Will that light come again, As now these tears come...falling hot and real!