The artist is the creator of beautiful things.
To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.
The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.
The highest, as the lowest, form of criticism
is a mode of autobiography.
Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.
Those who find beautiful meanings in
beautiful things are the cultivated. For
these there is hope.
They are the elect to whom beautiful things
mean only Beauty.
There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral
book. Books are well written, or
badly written. That is all.
The nineteenth century dislike of Realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.
The nineteenth century dislike of Romanticism
is the rage of Caliban not seeing
his own face in a glass.
The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter
of the artist, but the morality of art consists
in the perfect use of an imperfect medium.
No artist desires to prove anything. Even
things that are true can be proved.
No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical
sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable
mannerism of style.
No artist is ever morbid. The artist
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