The Matter seems to reign supreme, and its true lord to creep beneath its stupendous shadow.

Inert matter giving interest to the immortal man, not the immortal man to the inert matter.

A terrible philosophy in art! While something of these thoughts passed through the mind of the painter, he felt his arm touched, and saw Nicot by his side.
"A great master," said Nicot, "but I do not love the school." "I do not love, but I am awed by it.

We love the beautiful and serene, but we have a feeling as deep as love for the terrible and dark." "True," said Nicot, thoughtfully.

"And yet that feeling is only a superstition.