In Nature There Is No

What Will People Say-in These Words Lies The Tyranny Of The World, The Whole Destruction Of Our Natural Disposition, The Oblique Vision Of Our Minds. These Four Words Hold Sway Everywhere.

Truly, One Gets Easier Accustomed To A Silken Bed Than To A Sack Of Leaves.

We Consider It Tedious To Talk Of The Weather, And Yet There Is Nothing More Important.

The Little Dissatisfaction Which Every Artist Feels At The Completion Of A Work Forms The Germ Of A New Work.

We Hear The Rain Fall, But Not The Snow. Bitter Grief Is Loud, Calm Grief Is Silent.