“The artist is the creator of beautiful things.
To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim.
The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new
material his impression of beautiful things.
     The highest, as the lowest, form of criticism
     is a mode of autobiography.
Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt
without being charming. This is a fault.
     Those who find beautiful meanings in
     beautiful things are the cultivated. For
     these there is hope.
They are the elect to whom beautiful things
mean only Beauty.
     There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral
     book. Books are well written, or
     badly written. That is all.
The nineteenth century dislike of Realism is the rage of Caliban
seeing his own face in a glass.
     The nineteenth century dislike of Romanticism
     is the rage of Caliban not seeing
     his own face in a glass.
The moral life of man forms part f the subject-matter
of the artist, but the morality of art consists
in the perfect use of an imperfect medium.
No artist desires to prove anything. Even
things that are true can be proved.
     No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical
     sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable
     mannerism of style.
          No artist is ever morbid. The artist
          can express everything.
Thought and language are to the artist instruments
of an art.
     Vice and virtue are to the artist materials
     for an art.
From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art
of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor’s
craft is the type.
          All art is at once surface and symbol.
     Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
       Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
It is the spectator, and no life, that art really mirrors.
     Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows
     that the work is new, complex, and vital.
          When critics disagree the artist is in accord with himself.
We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he
does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing
is that one admires it intensely.
     All art is quite useless.”

     -Oscar Wilde

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