"Look at it in the light of your own genius! Don't you see its power?
Doesn't it tell you what you _could_ do, if you would?
If you couldn't paint a picture, or if you couldn't feel a picture to be painted, it wouldn't matter.

I'd let you ride to hell on your own palette, and be damned to you.

But this thing shows a power that the world can ill afford to lose.

It is so bad because it is so good.

Come here!" he drew his friend to the big window, and pointed to the mountains.
"There is an art like those mountains, my boy--lonely, apart from the world; remotely above the squalid ambitions of men; Godlike in its calm strength and peace--an art to which men may look for inspiration and courage and hope.