before long, I would like to live in a small cottage in the Himalayas. There I will grow vegetables and read books and walk in the mountains- and perhaps write, but not in anger. I may grow old there, and wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled and measure out my life in coffee spoons. But l will be able to walk outside on a cold silent night and touch the moon.

以后，我打算住在喜马拉雅山里的一间小农舍，我要在那里种菜、看书、漫步山间，或许写点东西，但不是在生气的情况下。我会在那里变老，卷着裤管，伴着咖啡度过余生。但在寒冷的静夜，我会走出屋子，走近月亮。

Nature contains the elements, in colour and form, of all pictures, as the keyboard contains the notes of all music.

But the artist is born to pick, and choose, and group with science, these elements, that the result may be beautiful—as the musician gathers his notes, and forms his chords, until he brings forth from chaos glorious harmony.

To say to the painter, that Nature is to be taken as she is, is to say to the player, that he may sit on the piano…

The dignity of the snow-capped mountain is lost in distinctness, but the joy of the tourist is to recognize the traveller on the top. The desire to see, for the sake of seeing, is, with the mass, alone the one to be gratified, hence the delight in detail.

And when the evening mist clothes the riverside with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor buildings lose themselves in the dim sky, and the tall chimneys become campanili, and the warehouses are palaces in the night, and the whole city hangs in the heavens, and fairy-land is before us—then the wayfarer hastens home; the working man and the cultured one, the wise man and the one of pleasure, cease to understand, as they have ceased to see, and Nature, who, for once, has sung in tune, sings her exquisite song to the artist alone, her son and her master—her son in that loves her, her master in that he knows her.

To him her secrets are unfolded, to him her lessons have become gradually clear. He looks at her flower, not with the enlarging lens, that may gather facts for the botanist, but with the light of the one who sees in her choice selection of brilliant tones and delicate tints, suggestions of future harmonies.

He does not confine himself to purposeless copying, without thought, each blade of grass, as commended by the inconsequent, but, in the long curve of the narrow leaf, corrected by the straight tall stem, he learns how grace is wedded to dignity. How strength enhances sweetness, that elegance shall be the result.

In the citron wing of the pale butterfly, with its dainty spots of orange, he sees before him the stately halls of fair gold, with their slender saffron pillars, and is taught how the delicate drawing high upon the walls shall be traced in tender tones of orpiment, and repeated by the base in notes of graver hue.

In all that is dainty and lovable he finds hints for his own combinations, and thus is Nature ever his resource and always at his service, and to him is naught refused.
大自然，就色彩和形状而论，包含所有图画的元素，就像键盘包含所有音乐的音符一样。

艺术家的天职就是对这些元素进行选择，将它们科学地组织起来，结果可能是一幅美丽的图画——就像音乐家用声音谱成和音，从混乱无序的声音中创作出动人和谐的乐曲一样。

如果对画家说他可以照大自然本来的样子作画，就等于对演奏家说他可以一屁股坐在钢琴的键盘上……

白雪皑皑的高山若是变得清晰可见就失去了它的威严，但观光者却因为能看见山顶上的游客而喜形于色。大多数人是为了看见而要看见，只是为了使这个愿望得到满足而已，因此他们以能看见细节而感到快乐。

当傍晚的迷雾以其柔纱般的诗意笼罩着河边，破旧的建筑消失在朦胧的天空，高高的烟囱变成一座座孤立的钟楼，大大小小的仓库恍如夜间的宫殿，整个城市悬在了空中，宛若仙境展现在我们眼前，那时候，路上的人们匆匆走路回家；劳动者和文化人，智者和浪子，因为他们熟视无睹，他们也就不能理解，而只在此时才开始歌唱的大自然便把自己美妙的歌唱给艺术家——她的儿子和她的主人；说他是儿子是因为他爱她，说他是主人是因为他理解她。

只有对他，她才展示她的秘密，只有对他，她的教诲才逐渐变得清晰。他观察着她的花朵，不是用为植物学家采集实据的放大镜，而是用一种眼光，她用这种眼光在她精选的灿烂色调和精妙色彩中看见孕育和谐的迹象。

他并非不假思索地描摹每一片草叶，如同那些微不足道的人们所赞扬的那样，而是在又高又直地茎干上的细长叶弯里，他发现，优雅和尊严融为一体，力量使它更加温柔，而后才产生了高雅。

在蝴蝶那淡淡的香橼色并布满雅致的橘黄斑点的翅膀上，他看见庄严的金色大厅就在眼前，还有又细又高的金黄顶柱，他懂得了那高墙上精巧的图画要用轻柔的雄黄色调来描绘，并要以更加庄重的色调为底色将其绘制下来。

在所有这些雅致和可爱的元素里，他得到如何进行融合的启示，这样，大自然就成了他取之不尽的源泉，随时为他服务，对他从不拒绝。