What they do with space in their paintings do we not with time in the case of our comedies, those acted pictures of life?
Should we not refuse to tolerate a play that insisted on furnishing us with a full perspective of its characters' past?
And yet of the two, it is far perferable, artistically, to be given too much in sequence than too much at once.

The Chinese, who put much less into a painting than what we deem indispensable, delight in dramas that last six weeks.
To give a concluding touch of life to my necessarily skeleton-like generalities, memory pictures me a certain painting of Okio's which I fell in love with at first sight.

It is of a sunrise on the coast of Japan.

A long line of surf is seen tumbling in to you from out a bank of mist, just piercing which shows the blood-red disk of the rising sun, while over the narrow strip of breaking rollers three cranes are slowly sailing north.

And that is all you see.