The more materialistic science becomes, the more angels shall I paint. Their wings are my protest in favor of the immortality of the soul.
I mean by a picture a beautiful romantic dream of something that never was, never will be - in a light better than any light that ever shone - in a land no one can define, or remember, only desire
Only this is true, that beauty is very beautiful, and softens, and inspires, and rouses, and lifts up, and never fails.