Mistress, when I met him in the street to-day, I had liked to have burst out crying: he was so changed.
"And I'll be bound the others keep their colour; ah, Reicht?
such as it is." "Oh, I see no odds in them." "Of course not.

We painters are no match for boors.

We are glass, they are stone.

We can't stand the worry, worry, worry of little minds; and it is not for the good of mankind we should be exposed to it.

It is hard enough, Heaven knows, to design and paint a masterpiece, without having gnats and flies stinging us to death into the bargain." Exasperated as Gerard was by his father's threat of violence, he listened to these friendly voices telling him the prudent course was rebellion.