oil painting artist

the exultant movement, which, while it swelled it in trouble, expanded
it with life; and, best of all, to open my inward ear to a tale that
was never ended- a tale my imagination created, and narrated
continuously; quickened with all of incident, life, fire, feeling,
that I desired and had not in my actual existence.
It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with
tranquillity: they must have action; and they will make it if they
and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows
how many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in the masses
of life which people earth. Women are supposed to be very calm
generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for
their faculties, and a field for their efforts, as much as their
brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a
stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded
in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to
confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to
playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to