They are worthy to occupy me a life; for they are eternal--or at least that which they express: and if I am to get at the symbolised unseen, it must be through the beauty of the symbolising phenomenon.

If I, who live by art, for art, in art, or you either, who seem as much a born artist as myself, am to have a religion, it must be a worship of the fountain of art--of the "Spirit of beauty, who doth consecrate With his own hues whate'er he shines upon."' 'As poor Shelley has it; and much peace of mind it gave him!' answered Lancelot.

'I have grown sick lately of such dreary tinsel abstractions.

When you look through the glitter of the words, your "spirit of beauty" simply means certain shapes and colours which please you in beautiful things and in beautiful people.' 'Vile nominalist! renegade from the ideal and all its glories!' said Claude, laughing.
'I don't care sixpence now for the ideal! I want not beauty, but some beautiful thing--a woman perhaps,' and he sighed.

'But at least a person--a living, loving person--all lovely itself, and giving loveliness to all things! If I must have an ideal, let it be, for mercy's sake, a realised one.' Claude opened his sketch-book.
'We shall get swamped in these metaphysical oceans, my dear dreamer.