Perhaps The Sketch Of A

The More An Object Is Polished Or Brilliant, The Less You See Its Own Color And The More It Becomes A Mirror Reflecting The Color Of Its Surroundings.

Give Me Some Mud, And I Will Paint You A Woman's Flesh.

If One Considered Life As A Simple Loan, One Would Perhaps Be Less Exacting. We Possess Actually Nothing; Everything Goes Through Us.

We Work Not Only To Produce, But To Give Value To Time.

If Painters Left Nothing Of Themselves After Their Deaths, So That We Were Obliged To Rank Them As We Do Actors According To The Judgment Of Their Contemporaries, How Different Their Reputations Would Be From What Posterity Has Made Them!