No Great Work Of Art

Love Lent Me Wings; My Path Was Like A Stair; A Lamp Unto My Feet, That Sun Was Given; And Death Was Safety And Great Joy To Find; But Dying Now, I Shall Not Climb To Heaven.

The True Work Of Art Is But A Shadow Of The Divine Perfection.

A Beautiful Thing Never Gives So Much Pain As Does Failing To Hear And See It.

Serene I Fold My Hands And Wait.

If People Knew How Hard I Worked At My Art, They Would Not Consider Me A Genius.