in this region, where my thought bears me, they are all united. This soft,
silent face of Urania, which looks upon me sleeplessly and untired, is not
its wonderful influence woven of that same essence that has ravished me
tonight in the tones of the violin? In the coolness of thought, do not the
masters of song, of painting, of sculpture meet in eternal congress, for
in each is the appearance of equal skill? Raphael could have sung as
Shakespeare, and Milton have hewn these massy forms as Angelo. Yet a
divine economy rules these upper spiritual regions, as sure and steadfast
as the order of the stars. Raphael must paint and Homer sing, yet the same
soul gilds the picture and sweetens the song. So Venus and Mars shine
yellow and red, but the same central fire is the light of each. In the
capacity of doing all things well lies the willingness to serve one duty.
The Jack of all trades is sure to be good at none, for who is good at all
is Jack of one only. It seemed a bitter thing to me, formerly, that
painters must only paint and sculptors carve; but I see now the wisdom. In
one thing well done lies the secret of doing all.

Music, painting, are labels that designate the form of action; the soul of
it lies below. The earnest merchant and the earnest anti-tradesman do join
hands and work together. Not ends are demanded of them, but vital strength
and soul. The world does not need that I name my work, but that the work
be accomplished.

The midnight warns me to pause. The stillness accords with the intercourse
of friendship, as the silence of space with the calm, speechless
recognition of the planets. Thoughts of all friends circle round me like
gentle breezes from the black wing of the night. Friends are equal and
noble always to friends. Lovers only know the depths and the heights of
lovers. Love prophesies only a surer, diviner friendship, crowned with the
dignity and composure of God.