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Updated: May 19, 2025
"The fact is, I don't think drawing's my forte. It's color, depend upon it. Only wait till I come to that; and see how I'll lay on the paint! Didn't you find drawing infernally difficult, Blyth, when you first began?" "I find it difficult still, Master Zack," replied Mr. Blyth.
Now what do you think of that little design itself?" "The sketch?" Beaton pulled the book toward him again and looked at it again. "Rather decorative. Drawing's not remarkable. Graceful; rather nice." He pushed the book away again, and Fulkerson pulled it to his aide of the table. "Well, that's a piece of that amateur trash you despise so much.
Now what do you think of that little design itself?" "The sketch?" Beaton pulled the book toward him again and looked at it again. "Rather decorative. Drawing's not remarkable. Graceful; rather nice." He pushed the book away again, and Fulkerson pulled it to his aide of the table. "Well, that's a piece of that amateur trash you despise so much.
I believe it far and away the best I've painted yet. Look into the work. O, it will stand inspection. You might examine it with a microscope. Then, the conception, eh? And the drawing's not amiss. A little more this way you catch the outline of his eyebrow, with the turn of the Rhymer's head." "Hang the Rhymer's head!" replied Dick, "I don't care about it. I won't look at it.
Woolner snorted: "Reed's a fool!" he said; "he knows nothing about it; there maybe a rotten line or two, but the drawing's all right." For forty years Adams kept this drawing on his mantelpiece, partly for its own interest, but largely for curiosity to see whether any critic or artist would ever stop to look at it. None ever did, unless he knew the story.
'I see! a sort of Mantegna Triumph with a difference! 'The drawing's all right, said Fenwick, with a long breath, and a stretch. 'If I can only get the paint as I want it' he stooped forward again peering into the canvas 'it's the handling of the paint that's what excites me! I want to get it broad and pure no messing no working over! a fine surface! and yet none of your waxy prettiness.
Now what do you think of that little design itself?" "The sketch?" Beaton pulled the book toward him again and looked at it again. "Rather decorative. Drawing's not remarkable. Graceful; rather nice." He pushed the book away again, and Fulkerson pulled it to his aide of the table. "Well, that's a piece of that amateur trash you despise so much.
DICK: To let each other alone, I suppose. Only we haven't enough to do it. HARRY: Don't tell me I'm getting nerves. But the way some of you people talk is enough to make even an aviator jumpy. Can't reach each other! Then we're fools. If I'm here and you're there, why can't we reach each other? DICK: Because I am I and you are you. HARRY: No wonder your drawing's queer.
"I've seen enough crookedness in this tent-town in the past four days to set my suspicions against everything and every official in it." "Well, the drawing's to be held at Meander, you know," reminded William Bentley, the toolmaker, "and Meander advertises itself as a moral center. It seems that it was against this town from the very start it wanted the whole show to itself.
They knew every move in the game of life, and Lethway's methods were familiar ones. "What are you going to do about it?" Mabel demanded at last. "Believe me, old dear, he's got a bad eye. Now listen here," she said with impulsive generosity. "I've got a scheme. I'll draw enough ahead to send you back. I'll do it to-morrow, while the drawing's good."
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