not to imitate her.--_W. M.
Hunt._

True art is not the caprice of this or that individual, it is a solemn
page either of history or prophecy; and when, as always in Dante and
occasionally in Byron, it combines and harmonizes this double mission,
it reaches the highest summit of power.--_Mazzini._

Art is the right hand of Nature. The latter has only given us being, the
former has made us men.--_Schiller._

Art does not imitate nature, but it founds itself on the study of
nature--takes from nature the selections which best accord with its own
intention, and then bestows on them that which nature does not possess,
namely, the mind and the soul of man.--_Bulwer-Lytton._

The mother of useful arts is necessity; that of the fine arts is
luxury.--_Schopenhaufer._

He who seeks popularity in art closes the door on his own genius, as he
must needs paint for other minds and not for his own.--_Washington
Allston._

In art, form is everything; matter, nothing.--_Heinrich Heine._

Strange thing art, especially music. Out of an art a man may be so
trivial you would mistake him for an imbecile, at best a grown infant.
Put him into his art, and how high he soars above you! How quietly he
enters into a heaven of which he has become a denizen, and, unlocking
the gates with his golden key, admits you to follow, an humble, reverent
visitor.--_Bulwer-Lytton._

Art does not imitate, but interpret.--_Mazzini._

The artist is the child in the popular fable, every one of whose tears
was a pearl. Ah! the world, that cruel step-mother, beats the poor child
the harder to make him shed more pearls.--_Heinrich Heine._

In art there is a point of perfection, as of goodness or maturity in
nature; he who is able to perceive it, and who loves it, has perfect
taste; he who does not feel it, or loves on this side or that, has an
imperfect taste.--_Bruyere._

Never judge a work of art by its defects.--_Washington Allston._

~Asceticism.~--I recommend no sour ascetic life. I believe not only in the
thorns on the rosebush, but in the roses which the thorns defend.
Asceticism is the child of sensuality and superstition. She is the
secret mother of many a secret sin. God, when he made man's body, did
not give us a fibre too much, nor a passion too many. I would steal no
violet from the young maiden's bosom; rather would I fill her arms with
more fragrant roses. But a life merely of pleasure, or chiefly of
pleasure, is always a poor and worthl