From the sweet naiveté of a Pre-Raphellite sonnet to the burning lusts of Egon Schele, love abides. Love blesses us and it hurts us — and no one is more inspired than a wounded or love-drunk artist.
Her spirit sits aloof, and high,
Altho' it looks thro' her soft eye
Sweetly and tenderly.
I'm sending this letter along with that of your dear daughter Anna, my dear colleague in the arts, in order to tell you of my deep affection for her.