Who knows better than artists how much ugliness there is on the way to beauty how many ghastly mortifying missteps how many days of granitic blockheadedness and dismaying ineptitude there is on the way to accomplishment how partial all accomplishment is how incomplete?
There is something mean in human nature that prefers to think evil that gives a willing ear and a ready welcome to calumny a sort of jealousy of goodness and greatness and things of good report.
