Analysis was to take to pieces everything he found, and find out how it was made.

Synthesis was to put the pieces together again, and make something fresh out of them.

In a word, Analysis was to teach men Science; and Synthesis to teach them Art.
But because Analysis was the elder, Madam How commanded Synthesis never to put the pieces together till Analysis had taken them completely apart.
And, my child, if Synthesis had obeyed that rule of his good old grandmother's, the world would have been far happier, wealthier, wiser, and better than it is now.
But Synthesis would not.

He grew up a very noble boy.

He could carve, he could paint, he could build, he could make music, and write poems: but he was full of conceit and haste.