very end; nor could I recover till I left the house.

'That is genius, which could give such life to this play; for,
if I may judge from other parts, it is defaced by inflated
sentiments, and verified by few natural touches. I wish I had
it to read, for I should like to recall her every tone and
look.'

* * * * *

'I have been studying Flaxman and Retzsch. How pure, how
immortal, the language of Form! Fools cannot fancy they
fathom its meaning; witless _dillettanti_ cannot degrade it by
hackneyed usage; none but genius can create or reproduce it.
Unlike the colorist, he who expresses his thought in form is
secure as man can be against the ravages of time.'

* * * * *

'I went to the Athenaeum in an agonizing conflict of mind, when
some high influence was needed to rouse me from the state
of sickly sensitiveness, which, much as I despise, I cannot
wholly conquer. How soothing it was to feel the blessed power
of the Ideal world, to be surrounded, once more with the
records of lives poured out in embodying thought in beauty!
I seemed to breathe my native atmosphere, and smoothed my
ruffled pinions.'

* * * * *

'No wonder God made a world to express his thought. Who, that
has a soul for beauty, does not feel the need of creating, and
that the power of creation alone can satisfy the spirit? When
I thus reflect, the Artist seems the only fortunate man. Had I
but as much creative genius as I have apprehensiveness!'

* * * * *

'How transcendently lovely was the face of one young angel by
Raphael! It was the perfection of physical, moral, and mental
life. Variegated wings, of pinkish-purple touched with green,
like the breasts of doves, and in perfect harmony with the
complexion, spring from the shoulders upwards, and against
them leans the divine head. The eye seems fixed on the centre
of being, and the lips are gently parted, as if uttering
strains of celestial melody.'

* * * * *

'The head of Aspasia was instinct with the voluptuousness of
intellect. From the eyes, the cheek, the divine lip, one might
hive honey. Both the Loves were exquisite: one, that zephyr
sentiment which visits all the roses of life; the