On An Instrument You Start From One

Night Is Here. All Is At Rest. My Eyes Close In Order To See Without Actually Understanding The Dream That Flees Before Men Infinite Space; And I Experience The Languorous Sensation Produced By The Mournful Procession Of My Hopes.

Stay Firmly In Your Path And Dare; Be Wild Two Hours A Day!

A Time Will Come When People Will Think I Am A Myth, Or Rather Something The Newspapers Have Made Up.

Oh Mysterious World Of All Light, Thou Hast Made A Light Shine Within Me, And I Have Grown In Admiration Of Thy Antique Beauty, Which Is The Immemorial Youth Of Nature.

I Was Aware That On My Skill As A Painter Would Depend The Physical And Moral Possession Of The Model.