But Hopes Are Shy Birds Flying At

The Fact Is I Am Growing Old Too Fast, Alas! I Feel It, And Yet Work I Will, And May God Grant Me Life To See The Last Plate Of My Mammoth Work Finished.

I Discover That My Friends Think Only Of My Apparel, And Those Upon Whom I Have Conferred Acts Of Kindness Prefer To Remind Me Of My Errors.

I Can Scarcely Manage To Scribble A Tolerable English Letter. I Know That I Am Not A Scholar, But Meantime I Am Aware That No Man Living Knows Better Than I Do The Habits Of Our Birds.

To Be A Good Draftsman Was To Me A Blessing.

If Only The Bird With The Loveliest Song Sang, The Forest Would Be A Lonely Place.