If it is the love of that which your work represents--if, being a
landscape painter, it is love of read more

If it is the love of that which your work represents--if, being a
landscape painter, it is love of hills and trees that moves
you--if, being a figure painter, it is love of human beauty, and
human soul that moves you--if, being a flower or animal painter,
it is love, and wonder, and delight in petal and in limb that
move you, then the Spirit is upon you, and the earth is yours,
and the fullness thereof.

If they could forget for a moment the correggiosity of Correggio
and the learned babble of the sale-room and read more

If they could forget for a moment the correggiosity of Correggio
and the learned babble of the sale-room and varnishing
Auctioneer.

The only good copies are those which exhibit the defects of bad
originals.

The only good copies are those which exhibit the defects of bad
originals.

Every time I paint a portrait I lose a friend.

Every time I paint a portrait I lose a friend.

Vain is the hope by colouring to display
The bright effulgence of the noontide ray
Or paint read more

Vain is the hope by colouring to display
The bright effulgence of the noontide ray
Or paint the full-orb'd ruler of the skies
With pencils dipt in dull terrestrial dyes.

Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen

Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen

"Paint me as I am," said Cromwell,
"Rough with age and gashed with wars;
Show my visage read more

"Paint me as I am," said Cromwell,
"Rough with age and gashed with wars;
Show my visage as you find it,
Less than truth my soul abhors."

Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.

Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.

I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure read more

I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure of myself, and the paintings appear as in a dream