A Quote by Logan Pearsall Smith

How often my soul visits the National Gallery, and how seldom — © Logan Pearsall Smith
How often my soul visits the National Gallery, and how seldom
We've learned how to destroy, but not to create; how to waste, but not to build; how to kill men, but not how to save them; how to die, but seldom how to live.
Our friends - how distant, how mute, how seldom visited and little known. And I, too, am dim to my friends and unknown; a phantom, sometimes seen, often not. Life is a dream surely.
Ever notice how seldom we lose control when frustrated by our boss, but how often we do when annoyed by friends or family?
How seldom is generosity perfect and pure! How often do men give because it throws a certain inferiority on those who receive, and superiority on themselves!
When I see my work in a gallery I often wonder how I got to this point. Sometimes the process of making the work feels like a blur, and I look at the work and wonder how I actually made it.
At one point Trudeau mentioned to me that the National Gallery wanted to buy a masterpiece by the great Italian painter Lotto, and it needed a million dollars from the Treasury Board. "Is that Lotto-Quebec or Lotto-Canada?" I joked, but I got the message, and the National Gallery got the painting.
Oh! how seldom the soul is silent, in order that God may speak.
If you're going to build a lean enterprise, you can test and measure how often the company ships iterations, how often it fails, how often it is putting things in front of people that don't work.
Your soul is the root, its the root of everything. And when He tells you how to handle sex, He made it, its awesome, its beautiful, it has a purpose. And when He tells you how to handle it, there's a reason He says, This is connected to your soul and if you misuse it, your soul will wilt and will waste away. You can use it how you want to because you have the freedom to do that but in the end I'm telling you how to have the life to the fullest.
How fragile life was, how fleeting their days on earth, and how fickle was Death, claiming the young as often as the old, the healthy as often as the ailing, cruelly stealing away a baby's first breath, a mother's fading heartbeat.
Men do communicate, often very directly, but women sometimes cannot accept how simple what we have to say is. We seldom play games--we aren't that sophisticated.
How can I keep my soul in me, so that it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise it high enough, past you, to other things?
On one level, I'm interested in how the space dictates the effect visually - how the composition of a given work changes depending on the nature of each wall. But I'm also trying to emphasize less tangible elements: the amount of time it takes to walk the gallery's perimeter; how one's physical distance affects his or her sense of the overall composition; how the size of the space creates a sense of visual rhythm. It's really a matter of seeing how much structure is necessary to impose for those things to become apparent.
A willingness to vocalize feelings. How important it is to be willing to voice one's thoughts and feelings. Yes, how important it is to be able to converse on the level of each family member. Too often we are inclined to let family members assume how we feel toward them. Often wrong conclusions are reached. Very often we could have performed better had we known how family members felt about us and what they expected.
Mortals seldom know how greatly they are influenced by fairies, knooks and ryls, who often put thoughts into their heads that only the wise little immortals could have conceived.
I have begun in old age to understand...that we seldom if ever realize how generous we are to ourselves, and just how stingy with others.
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