Mention795052
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| so:text | I sat, just watching the moon creep up, and hearing the thin, dry rustle of the leaves along the holly hedge. And there came to me this thought: What is this Universe — that never had beginning and will never have an end — but a myriad striving to perfect pictures never the same, so blending and fading one into another, that all form one great perfected picture? And what are we — ripples on the tides of a birthless, deathless, equipoised Creative-Purpose — but little works of Art? (en) |
| so:isPartOf | https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/John_Galsworthy |
| so:description | Vague Thoughts On Art (1911) (en) |
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