Of Course You're Always At Liberty To

One Is Oneself A Fine Consequence.

The Story Had Held Us, Round The Fire, Sufficiently Breathless, But Except The Obvious Remark That It Was Gruesome, As, On Christmas Eve In An Old House, A Strange Tale Should Essentially Be . . .

She Had An Immense Curiosity About Life, And Was Constantly Staring And Wondering.

I Know Of No Substitute Whatever For The Force And Beauty Of An Artistic Process.

Really, Universally, Relations Stop Nowhere, And The Exquisite Problem Of The Artist Is Eternally But To Draw, By A Geometry Of His Own, The Circle Within Which They Shall Happily Appear To Do So.