Half the trouble in life is caused by pretending there isn't any. - Edith Wharton

Set wide the window. Let me drink the day. I loved light ever, light in eye and brain — No tapers mirrored in long palace floors, Nor dedicated depths of silent aisles, But just the common dusty wind-blown day That roofs earth's millions.

Ah, good conversation — there's nothing like it, is there? The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.

Another unsettling element in modern art is that common symptom of immaturity, the dread of doing what has been done before.