What Has Reason To Do With The

Ah, Sunflower, Weary Of Time, Who Countest The Steps Of The Sun, Seeking After That Sweet Golden Clime Where The Traveller's Journey Is Done; Where The Youth Pined Away With Desire And The Pale Virgin Shrouded In Snow Arise From Their Graves, And Aspire Where My Sunflower Wishes To Go.

The Ignorant Insults Of Individuals Will Not Hinder Me From Doing My Duty To My Art

What Has Reason To Do With The Art Of Painting?

Reason, Or The Ratio Of All We Have Already Known, Is Not The Same That It Shall Be When We Know More.

Every Harlot Was A Virgin Once.