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False zeal is every day bringing true zeal into disrepute.
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The boughs of the oak are roaring inside the acorn.
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The cool blade Severs between coolness, apple-rind Compelling a recognition.
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Any critic of Cezanne who described him as a painter of country scenes would be moving in the wrong direction. You must begin with the question of style . . .
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To many men, moderate success is only another aspect of failure.
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There are portraits and still-lifes And the first, because 'human' Does not excel the second
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The world does not end tonight And the fruit that we will pick tomorrow Await us, weighing the unstripped bough.
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In all pursuits men complain of failure when they have not attained the measure of success they proposed to themselves.