A Man Needs A Purpose For Real

It May Be Life Is Only Worthwhile At Moments. Perhaps That Is All We Ought To Expect.

On The Trees Are Only A Few Gnarled Apples That The Pickers Have Rejected. They Look Like The Knuckles Of Doctor Reefy's Hands. One Nibbles At Them And They Are Delicious. Into A Little Round Place At The Side Of The Apple Has Been Gathered All Its Sweetness. One Runs From Tree To Tree Over The Frosted Ground Picking The Gnarled, Twisted Apples And Filling His Pockets With Them. Only The Few Know The Sweetness Of The Twisted Apples.

Next To Occupation Is The Building Up Of Good Taste. That Is Difficult, Slow Work. Few Achieve It. It Means All The Difference In The World In The End.

Draw, Draw, Hundreds Of Drawings. Try To Remain Humble. Smartness Kills Everything.

Those Who Are To Follow The Arts Should Have A Training In What Is Called Poverty. Given A Comfortable Middle-class Start In Life, The Artist Is Almost Sure To End Up By Becoming A Bellyacher, Constantly Complaining Because The Public Does Not Rush Forward At Once To Proclaim Him.