"Art finds its own perfection within itself and not from without. It should not be judged by external measures of similarity. It is a veil rather than a mirror. It has flowers that no forest knows, birds that no woodland has. She makes and remakes many worlds, and the Moon from the sky can bring it down with a single crimson thread... The Dryads peep through the undergrowth as she passes, and the Fauns smile strangely at her as she approaches them. She has hawk-faced gods worshiping her and Centaurs galloping at her side.”
Oscar Wilde
The Decay of Lyi
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