I'd rather be right than consistent.

A heightened sense of the observation of nature is one of the chief delights that have come to me through trying to paint.

Hatred plays the same part in government as acid in chemistry.

There must be what Mr. Gladstone many years ago called a blessed act of oblivion. We must all turn our backs upon the horrors of the past. We must look to the future. We cannot afford to drag forward across the years that are to come the hatreds and revenges which have sprung from the injuries of the past.

Everything trends towards catastrophe & collapse. I am interested, geared up & happy. Is it not horrible to be built like that?

History with its flickering lamp stumbles along the trail of the past, trying to reconstruct its scenes, to revive its echoes, and kindle with pale gleams the passion of former days.

I have watched this famous island descending incontinently, fecklessly, the stairway which lead to a dark gulf.