Gout is not relieved by a fine shoe nor a hangnail by a costly ring nor migraine by a tiara.
Painting is silent poetry.
A Roman divorced from his wife, being highly blamed by his friends, who demanded, "Was she not chaste? Was she not fair? Was she not fruitful?" holding out his shoe, asked them whether it was not new and well made. "Yet," added he, "none of you can tell where it pinches me.''
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks.
The measure of a man is the way he bears up under misfortune.
Nature and wisdom never are at strife.