The sky was pure opal now.

When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself.

I am sick to death of cleverness. Everybody is clever nowadays.

Those who have much are often greedy. Those who have little always share.

Anybody can make history; only a great man can write it.

Everything is dangerous, my dear fellow. If it wasn't so, life wouldn't be worth living.

But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face.