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.

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?

I mix them with my brains, sir.

I mix them with my brains, sir.

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.

Painting is an infinitely minute part of my personality.

Painting is an infinitely minute part of my personality.

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.

And those who paint 'em truest praise 'em most.

And those who paint 'em truest praise 'em most.

The fellow mixes blood with his colors.

The fellow mixes blood with his colors.

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.