The analytical mind kills poetry. The rainbow was a supernatural event until someone explained it that falling rain broke up the sunlight into colors. Yet it is ignorance not to know it.
Sparrows, I have just found out, are sometimes given over to quarreling. Yesterday and today, I have not put crumbs on the sill as the window was frozen tight...
I think that I am standing on the brink of an abyss of stagnant mire-or are my feel already sunken?
Every so often, I pass thru a period of despising my locale, and longing for either new, more, romantic & picturesque scenes, or for the old remembered haunts in Ohio...
In one of my imaginings today, I was making a trip thru the mountains en route to the Pacific, and suddenly it came to my mind to imagine a thunderstorm in the mountains; at once I saw this.
...all you can hope is that the artists will sometimes again turn their attention back to humanity and the world of nature.
Never should the artist adopt an artificial formula that has been evolved by some other man, and superimpose it on nature.
It has been said that great art is a perfect union of form and idea, but if an artist is going to be remiss in either, it has better be in form.
The work of an artist is superior to the surface appearance of nature, but not its basic laws.
A good drawing should be a spontaneous creation, not a carefully planned and studied exercise.