The Contour Should Come Last, Only A

As For The Ridiculous Fear Of Making Things Below One's Potential Abilities... No, There Is The Root Of The Evil. There Is The Hiding Place Of Stupidity I Must Attack: Vain Mortal, You Are Limited By Nothing.

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.

The Artist Is Always Concerned With A Total View Of The World. However, When The Photographer Takes A Picture ... The Edge Of His Picture Is Just As Interesting As The Middle, One Can Only Guess At The Existence Of A Whole, And The View Presented Seems Chosen By Chance.

They Say That Each Generation Inherits From Those That Have Gone Before; If This Were So There Would Be No Limit To Man's Improvements Or To His Power Of Reaching Perfection. But He Is Very Far From Receiving Intact That Storehouse Of Knowledge Which The Centuries Have Piled Up Before Him; He May Perfect Some Inventions, But In Others, He Lags Behind The Originators, And A Great Many Inventions Have Been Lost Entirely. What He Gains On The One Hand, He Loses On The Other.

If You Are Not Skillful Enough To Sketch A Man Jumping Out Of A Window In The Time It Takes Him To Fall From The Fourth Storey To The Ground, You Will Never Be Able To Produce Great Works.