I ought to respect myself for my friends’ sake, and my children’s. It is time, at fifty-six, to begin, at least, to know oneself, – and I do know what I am not, and your regard for me has at least awakened me to believe in the possibility that I may yet make some impression with my “light” – my “dews” – my “breezes” – my bloom and freshness, – no one of which qualities has yet been perfected on the canvas of any painter in the world.
