A Wife Of Your Own Stature Is

The True Wisdom Of The Philosopher Ought To Insist In Enjoying Everything. Yet We Apply Ourselves To Dissecting And Destroying Everything That Is Good In Itself, That Has Virtue, Albeit The Virtue There Is In Mere Illusions. Nature Gives Us This Life Like A Toy To A Weak Child. We Want To See How It All Works; We Break Everything. There Remains In Our Hands, And Before Our Eyes, Stupid And Opened Too Late, The Sterile Wreckage, Fragments That Will Not Again Make A Whole. The Good Is So Simple.

I Live In Company With A Body, A Silent Companion, Exacting And Eternal. He It Is Who Notes That Individuality Which Is The Seal Of The Weakness Of Our Race. My Soul Has Wings, But The Brutal Jailer Is Strict.

There Is A Man Whose Qualities Can Be Savored By People Who Are Getting Old... The Painter Qualities Are Carried To The Highest Point In His Work: What He Does Is Done - Through And Through; When He Paints Eyes, They Are Lit With The Fire Of Life.

Delsarte Tells Me That Mozart Stole Outrageously From Galuppi, In The Same Way, I Suppose, That Molière Stole From Anybody Anywhere, If He Found Something Work Taking. I Said That What Was Mozart Had Not Been Stolen From Galuppi, Or From Anyone Else For That Matter.

Every Time I Await A Model, Even When I Am Most Pressed To Time, I Am Overjoyed When The Time Comes And I Tremble When I Hear The Key Turn In The Door.