With His Nightcaps And The Tatters Of

Don't Send A Poet To London.

Where Words Cease, There Music Begins.

The People Have No Ear, Either For Rhythm Or Music, And Their Unnatural Passion For Pianoforte Playing And Singing Is Thus All The More Repulsive. There Is Nothing On Earth More Terrible Than English Music, Except English Painting.

The Violets Prattle And Titter, And Gaze On The Stars High Above.

Like A Great Poet, Nature Produces The Greatest Results With The Simplest Means. These Are Simply A Sun, Trees, Flowers, Water And Love.