The art of art... is simplicity.

I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough, To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough, To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough, To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment—what is this, then? I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in a sea.

And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.

Clear and sweet is my soul, clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

All the past we leave behind; We debouch upon a newer, mightier world, varied world, Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and the march, Pioneers! O Pioneers!

In nothing is there more evolution than the American mind.

A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing lacking.