Death: The Grand Perhaps.

Ever Judge Of Men By Their Professions. For Though The Bright Moment Of Promising Is But A Moment, And Cannot Be Prolonged, Yet If Sincere In Its Moment's Extravagant Goodness, Why, Trust It, And Know The Man By It, I Say,- Not By His Performance; Which Is Half The World's Work, Interfere As The World Needs Must With Its Accidents And Circumstances: The Profession Was Purely The Man's Own. I Judge People By What They Might Be,- Not Are, Nor Will Be.

Sappho Survives, Because We Sing Her Songs; And Eschylus, Because We Read His Plays!

I, Painting From Myself And To Myself, Know What I Do, Am Unmoved By Men's Blame Or Their Praise Either.

Open My Heart, And You Will See Graved Inside Of It ‘italy.'

There Is No Truer Truth Obtainable By Man Than Comes Of Music