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Painter who is said to have made the universe so beautiful.  It is, in a way, so sad and still so beautiful.  In the still nights, the. pale dawns and lingering evenings, to sit at his bedside near the large window overlooking the Plein, and watch and listen as he whispers of what to him is the truth, life and peace.  No bitterness, no remorse, no revenge against the hundreds who for thirty years, wag [[strikethrough]][[?]][[/strikethrough]] so wan against the young, knight, he who has so successfully borne his lance against them all.  He bears no ill will, he wants no praise, no crown!

Enough for him the mysterious spirit sounded by the mellow