To see a purpose in the cold light of intellectual conviction, and to lack the inspiring fervour which can glorify a struggle with the obstacles nature will interpose, is to realise intensely the rugged baldness of life stripped of illusion, life as we shall see it when the end approaches and the only voice that convinces tell us that all is vanity.

It is the mood known by the artist when, viewing the work complete within his mind, his heart lacks its joy and his hand is cold to execute.

Self-consciousness makes of life itself a work of art.

There are the blessed moments when ardour rises in pursuit of the ideal, when it is supreme bliss to strive and overcome; and there are the times of aching languor, when the conception is still clear in every line, but the soul asks wearily--To what end?
In Emily it was reaction after the eagerness of her sudden unreasoning hope.

Body and mind suffered beneath a burden of dull misery.