I have no faith in human perfectibility. I think that human exertion w >>
The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be >>
In criticism I will be bold, and as sternly, absolutely just with frie >>
We have art in order not to die of the truth. >>
The True Artist has the planet for his pedestal; the adventurer, after >>
The sole art that suits me is that which, rising from unrest, tends to >>
Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul. The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of Artist.