From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly read more

From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with light his blended colors glow.
. . . .
The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring
Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.

I mix them with my brains, sir.

I mix them with my brains, sir.

Are we to paint what's on the face, what's inside the face, or what's behind it?

Are we to paint what's on the face, what's inside the face, or what's behind it?

Painting is an infinitely minute part of my personality.

Painting is an infinitely minute part of my personality.

Well, something must be done for May,
The time is drawing nigh--
To figure in the Catalogue,
read more

Well, something must be done for May,
The time is drawing nigh--
To figure in the Catalogue,
And woo the public eye.
Something I must invent and paint;
But oh my wit is not
Like one of those kind substantives
That answer Who and What?

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.

Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?

Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?

One picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the
applause of mankind, from generation to generation until read more

One picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the
applause of mankind, from generation to generation until the
colors fade and blacken out of sight or the canvas rot entirely
away.

Every time I paint a portrait I lose a friend.

Every time I paint a portrait I lose a friend.