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Tis done. We have become a nation.
Benjamin Rush, on the ratification of the Constitution, letter to Boudinot, July 9, 1788



No longer shall I paint interiors with men reading and women
knitting. I will paint living people who breather and feel and suffer and
love.
Edvard Munch

L



How heavy do I journey on the way,

When what I seek, my weary travel\'s end,

Doth teach that ease and that repose to say,

\'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!\'

The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,

Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,

As if by some instinct the wretch did know

His rider lov\'d not speed, being made from thee:

The bloody spur cannot provoke him on,

That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,

Which heavily he answers with a groan,

More sharp to me than spurring to his side;

  For that same groan doth put this in my mind,

  My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.

 	--William Shakespeare

CXIV



Or whether doth my mind, being crown\'d with you,

Drink up the monarch\'s plague, this flattery?

Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,

And that your love taught it this alchemy,

To make of monsters and things indigest

Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,

Creating every bad a perfect best,

As fast as objects to his beams assemble?

O! \'tis the first, \'tis flattery in my seeing,

And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:

Mine eye well knows what with his gust is \'greeing, 

And to his palate doth prepare the cup:

  If it be poison\'d, \'tis the lesser sin

  That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.

 	--William Shakespeare