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Men are what their mothers made them. --Ralph Waldo EmersonIf you aren\'t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?
T. S. Eliot

CXIX



What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,

Distill\'d from limbecks foul as hell within,

Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,

Still losing when I saw myself to win!

What wretched errors hath my heart committed,

Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!

How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,

In the distraction of this madding fever!

O benefit of ill! now I find true

That better is, by evil still made better;

And ruin\'d love, when it is built anew,

Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.

  So I return rebuk\'d to my content,

  And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.

 	--William Shakespeare

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