In Rome it seems as if there were so many things which are more wanted in the world than pictures.
Nature repairs her ravages,--repairs them with her sunshine and with human labor.
Subtle impressions for which words are quite too coarse a medium.
It is as useless to fight against the interpretations of ignorance as to whip the fog.
The wrong that rouses our angry passions finds only a medium in us; it passes through us like a vibration, and we inflict what we have suffered.
It always seemed to me a sort of clever stupidity only to have one sort of talent - like a carrier pigeon.