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.

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

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

"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."

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?

I mix them with my brains, sir.

I mix them with my brains, sir.

Hard features every bungler can command:
To draw true beauty shows a master's hand.

Hard features every bungler can command:
To draw true beauty shows a master's hand.

The world today doesn't make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?

The world today doesn't make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?

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.

I only feel, but want the power to paint.
[Lat., Nequeo monstrare et sentio tantum.]

I only feel, but want the power to paint.
[Lat., Nequeo monstrare et sentio tantum.]