Why did she want my life?
she had so many! She had rich lives, great lives, grand lives at her bidding; and yet she knew no rest till she had leaned down from her cruel height and had seized mine, that had nothing on earth but the joys of the sun and the dew, and the falling of night, and the dawning of day, that are given to the birds of the fields." His chest heaved with the spasms that with each throe seemed to tear his frame asunder; still he conquered them, and his words went on; his eyes fastened on the burning white glare of the wall as though all the beauty of this woman glowed afresh there to his sight.
"She was great; no matter her name--she lives still.

She was vile; aye, but not in my sight till too late.

Why is it that the heart which is pure never makes ours beat upon it with the rapture sin gives?
Through month on month my picture grew, and my passion grew with it, fanned by her hand.

She knew that never would a man paint her beauty like one who gave his soul for the price of success.

I had my paradise; I was drunk; and I painted as never the colors of mortals painted a woman.