t a strong inclination toward art is often
enkindled by such quite imperfect reproductions. But the effect is
like the object; it is rather that an obscure indefinite feeling is
aroused, than that the object in all its worth and dignity really
appears to such beginners in art. These are they who usually express
the theory that too minute a critical investigation destroys the
enjoyment, who are accustomed to oppose and resist regard for details.

If gradually, however, after further experience and training, they
are confronted with a sharp cast instead of a blurred one, an original
instead of a cast, their pleasure grows with their insight, and
increases when the originals themselves, the perfect originals,
finally become known to them.

The labyrinth of exact observations is willingly entered when the
details as well as the whole are perfect; indeed one learns to realize
that the excellences can be appreciated only in proportion as the
defects are perceived. To discriminate the restoration from the
genuine parts, and the copy from the original, to see in the smallest
fragments the ruined glory of the whole--this is the joy of the
finished expert; and there is a great difference between observing and
comprehending an imperfect whole with obscured vision, and a perfect
whole with clear vision.

He who concerns himself with any branch of knowledge, should strive
for the highest! Insight is different from practice, for in practical
work everyone must soon resign himself to the fact that only a certain
measure of strength is alloted to him; far more people, however,
are capable of knowledge and insight. Indeed, one may well say that
everyone is thus capable who can deny himself and subordinate himself
to external objects, everyone who does not strive with rigid and
narrow-minded obstinacy to impose upon the highest works of Nature and
Art his own personality and his petty onesideness.

To speak of works of art fitly and with true benefit to oneself and
others, the discussion should take place only in the presence of the
works themselves. Everything depends on the objects being in view; on
whether something absolutely definite is suggested by the word with
which one hopes to illuminate the work of art; for, otherwise, nothing
is thought of at all. This is why it so often happens that the writer
on art dwells merely on generalities, through which, indeed, ideas and
sensations are aroused in all readers, but no satisfaction