“The aquilegia sprinkled on the rocks A scarlet rain; the yellow violet Sat in the chariot of its leaves, the phlox Held spikes of purple flame in meadows wet, And all the streams with vernal-scented reed Were fringed, and streaky bellow of miskodeed.”

I know I am–that simplest bliss The millions of my brothers miss. I know the fortune to be born, Even to the meanest wretch they scorn.

Could one live on the sense of beauty alone, exempt from the necessity of ‘creature comforts,’ a sea-voyage would be delightful.

Eccentricity is developed monomania.

As I toiled up the Mount of Olives, in the very footsteps of Christ, panting with the heat and the difficult ascent, I found it utterly impossible to conceive that the Deity, in human form, had walked there before me.

There may come a day Which crowns Desire with gift, and Art with truth, And Love with bliss, and Life with wiser youth!

An enthusiastic desire of visiting the Old World haunted me from early childhood. I cherished a presentiment, amounting almost to belief, that I should one day behold the scenes, among which my fancy had so long wandered.

The most annoying of all blockheads is a well-read fool.

By wisdom wealth is won; but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.

But still I dream that somewhere there must be The spirit of a child that waits for me.

In the glory which overhangs Palestine afar off, we imagine emotions which never come, when we tread the soil and walk over the hallowed sites.

I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die.

The knowledge of my sin Is half-repentance.

The clouds are scudding across the moon, A misty light is on the sea; The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune, And the foam is flying free.

Sometimes an hour of Fate’s serenest weather Strikes through our changeful sky its coming beams; Somewhere above us, in elusive ether, Waits the fulfilment of our dearest dreams.

Death is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale.

The stream from Wisdom’s well, Which God supplies, is inexhaustible.

I’d only started noticing that something had gone wrong when I got a call from Naomi [Campbell], she called me and said, “You gotta do something about it, it’s really bad, they’re not using any models of color.”

Whether the color of your skin is black, white, yellow, brown or purple – the extent of this tragedy is so incredibly devastating that we had to do something.

Think of color, pitch, loudness, heaviness, and hotness. Each is the topic of a branch of physics

But if I were to take a palette all my colours would be of you.

When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option.

As a person of color, there’s no getting around the reality of its responsibility.

Aided and abetted by market forces and the laws of supply and demand, he hones his skill to stand up but make sure he’s never counted.

Music is the last true voice of the human spirit. It can go beyond language, beyond age, and beyond color straight to the mind and heart of all people.