 Art ought never to be considered except in its relations with its ideal beauty. 
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But it is the province of religion, of philosophy, of pure poetry only, to go beyond life, beyond time, into eternity.
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Do you know that charming part of our country which has been called the garden of France - that spot where, amid verdant plains watered by wide streams, one inhales the purest air of heaven?
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Do you not see with your own eyes the chrysalis fact assume by degrees the wings of fiction?
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France, for example, loves at the same time history and the drama, because the one explores the vast destinies of humanity, and the other the individual lot of man.
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