In Art, Immorality Cannot Exist. Art Is

I Invent Nothing, I Rediscover.

The Delicate Droop Of The Petals Standing Out In Relief, Is Like The Eyelid Of A Child.

There Is A Continual Exchange Of Ideas Between All Minds Of A Generation. Journalists, Popular Novelists, Illustrators, And Cartoonists Adapt The Truths Discovered By The Powerful Intellects For The Multitude. It Is Like A Spiritual Flood, Like A Gush That Pours Into Multiple Cascades Until It Forms The Great Moving Sheet Of Water That Stands For The Mentality Of A Period.

In Art, Immorality Cannot Exist. Art Is Always Sacred.

In Short, Beauty Is Everywhere. It Is Not That She Is Lacking To Our Eye, But Our Eyes Which Fail To Perceive Her. Beauty Is Character And Expression. Well, There Is Nothing In Nature Which Has More Character Than The Human Body. In Its Strength And Its Grace It Evokes The Most Varied Images. One Moment It Resembles A Flower: The Bending Torso Is The Stalk; The Breasts, The Head, And The Splendor Of The Hair Answer To The Blossoming Of The Corolla. The Next Moment It Recalls The Pliant Creeper, Or The Proud And Upright Sapling.