A day spent without the sight or sound of beauty the contemplation of mystery or the search of truth or perfection is a poverty-stricken day and a succession of such days is fatal to human life.
If in my youth I had realized that the sustaining splendour of beauty of with which I was in love would one day flood back into my heart there to ignite a flame that would torture me without end how gladly would I have put out the light in my eyes.
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At some point in life the world's beauty becomes enough. You don't need to photograph paint or even remember it. It is enough.
