A Fine Suggestion, A Sketch With Great

The True Wisdom Of The Philosopher Ought To Insist In Enjoying Everything. Yet We Apply Ourselves To Dissecting And Destroying Everything That Is Good In Itself, That Has Virtue, Albeit The Virtue There Is In Mere Illusions. Nature Gives Us This Life Like A Toy To A Weak Child. We Want To See How It All Works; We Break Everything. There Remains In Our Hands, And Before Our Eyes, Stupid And Opened Too Late, The Sterile Wreckage, Fragments That Will Not Again Make A Whole. The Good Is So Simple.

Not Only Can Color, Which Is Under Fixed Laws, Be Taught Like Music, But It Is Easier To Learn Than Drawing, Whose Elaborate Principles Cannot Be Taught.

Perfect Beauty Implies Perfect Simplicity, A Quality That At First Sight Does Not Arouse The Emotions Which We Feel Before Gigantic Works, Objects Whose Very Disproportion Constitutes An Element Of Beauty.

Criticism Is Like Many Other Things, It Drags Along After What Has Already Been Said And Doesn't Get Out Of Its Rut.

What Moves Those Of Genius, What Inspires Their Work Is Not New Ideas, But Their Obsession With The Idea That What Has Already Been Said Is Still Not Enough.