Perhaps the only true dignity of man is his capacity to despise himself.

Well-bred instinct meets reason halfway

The effort of art is to keep what is interesting in existence, to recreate it in the eternal.

Fanaticism consists of redoubling your effort when you have forgotten your aim.

The sophisticated concern about art sinks before a spontaneous love of reality, and I thank the photograph for being so transparent a vehicle for things.

With you a part of me hath passed away; For in the peopled forest of my mind A tree made leafless by this wintry wind Shall never don again its green array. Chapel and fireside, country road and bay, Have something of their friendliness resigned; Another, if I would, I could not find, And I am grown much older in a day. But yet I treasure in my memory Your gift of charity, and young hearts ease, And the dear honour of your amity; For these once mine, my life is rich with these. And I scarce know which part may greater be,-- What I keep of you, or you rob from me.

Eloquence is a republican art, as conversation is an aristocratic one.