... the true seeing is within; and painting stares at you with an insistent imperfection.
Genius ... is necessarily intolerant of fetters.
Death was not to be a leap: it was to be a long descent under thickening shadows.
To manage men one ought to have a sharp mind in a velvet sheath.
Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight of their objects than love.
It is painful to be told that anything is very fine and not be able to feel that it is fine--something like being blind, while people talk of the sky.