The Way To Perfection Is Through A

Every Moment Some Form Grows Perfect In Hand Or Face; Some Tone On The Hills Or The Sea Is Choicer Than The Rest; Some Mood Of Passion Or Insight Or Intellectual Excitement Is Irresistibly Real And Attractive For Us - For That Moment Only.

All Art Does But Consist In The Removal Of Surplusage.

We Need Some Imaginative Stimulus, Some Not Impossible Ideal Such As May Shape Vague Hope, And Transform It Into Effective Desire, To Carry Us Year After Year, Without Disgust, Through The Routine-work Which Is So Large A Part Of Life.

Of Such Wisdom, The Poetic Passion, The Desire Of Beauty, The Love Of Art For Its Own Sake, Has Most. For Art Comes To You Proposing Frankly To Give Nothing But The Highestquality Toyourmomentsasthey Pass,and Simply For Those Moments'sake.

To Burn Always With This Hard, Gemlike Flame, To Maintain This Ecstasy, Is Success In Life . . . Not The Fruit Of Experience, But Experience Itself, Is The End . . . For Art Comes To You Professing Frankly To Give Nothing But The Highest Quality To Your Moments As They Pass, And Simply For Those Moments' Sake.