That was meant for a sad song.

As it stands, it's merely flippant--insincere.

And insincerity is the knell of art." Nan skimmed the surface defiantly.
"What a disagreeable criticism! You might have given me some encouragement instead of crushing my poor little attempt at composition like that!" Rooke looked at her gravely.

With him, sincerity in art was a fetish; in life, a superfluity.

But for the moment he was genuinely moved.