It is the soul of a marvellous monk that we see, of a saint, embodied on this coloured mirror, exhaled in a painted creation.

And we can measure how far that soul had advanced on the path of perfection from the work that reflects it.
He carries his angels and his saints up to the Unifying Life, the supreme height of Mysticism.

There the weariness of their dolorous ascent is no more; there is the plenitude of tranquil joy, the peace of man made one with God.

Angelico is the painter of the soul immersed in God, the painter of his own spirit.
None but a monk could attempt such paintings.

Matsys, Memling, Dierck Bouts, Roger van der Weyden were no doubt sincere and pious worthies.
They gave their work a reflection of Heaven; they too reflected their own soul in the faces they depicted; but though they gave them a wonderful stamp of art, they could only infuse into them the semblance of the soul beginning the practice of Christian asceticism; they could only represent men still detained, like themselves, in the outer chambers of those Castles of the Soul of which Saint Theresa speaks, and not in the Hall where, in the centre, Christ sits and sheds His glory.
They were, in my opinion, greater and keener observers, more learned and more skilful, even better painters than Angelico; but their heart was in their craft, they lived in the world, they often could not resist giving their Virgins fine-lady airs, they were hampered by earthly reminiscences, they could not rise in their work above the trammels of daily life; in short, they were and remained men.