He was dressed in a gray blouse, with a little cap on the top of his head; a costume which became him better than the formal garments which he wore whenever he passed out of his own domains.

The sculptor had a face which, when time had done a little more for it, would offer a worthy subject for as good an artist as himself: features finely cut, as if already marble; an ideal forehead, deeply set eyes, and a mouth much hidden in a light-brown beard, but apparently sensitive and delicate.
"I will not offer you my hand," said he; "it is grimy with Cleopatra's clay." "No; I will not touch clay; it is earthy and human," answered Miriam.
"I have come to try whether there is any calm and coolness among your marbles.

My own art is too nervous, too passionate, too full of agitation, for me to work at it whole days together, without intervals of repose.

So, what have you to show me ?" "Pray look at everything here," said Kenyon.

"I love to have painters see my work.