A Gloomy Guest Fits Not A Wedding

The Universe Is A Thought Of God.

He Who Never Ventures Beyond Actuality Will Never Win The Prize Of Truth.

No Doubt The Artist Is The Child Of His Time; But Woe To Him If He Is Also Its Disciple, Or Even Its Favorite.

Everlastingly Chained To A Single Little Fragment Of The Whole, Man Himself Develops Into Nothing But A Fragment; Everlastingly In His Ear The Monotonous Sound Of The Wheel That He Turns, He Never Develops The Harmony Of His Being, And Instead Of Putting The Stamp Of Humanity Upon His Own Nature, He Becomes Nothing More Than The Imprint Of His Occupation Or Of His Specialized Knowledge.

Nothing, It Is True, Is More Common Than For Both Science And Art To Pay Homage To The Spirit Of The Age, And For Creative Taste To Accept The Law Of Critical Taste.