Art (n.) is derived from nature, and has achieved nothing if it does not move and delight nature.
Art (n.) only shows you where to look; between genius and diligence there is very little room left for it.
Art (n.) creates nothing out of nothing; it can only educate and strengthen what was already born in the mind.
Art (n.) turns lucky hits into skill: nature alone can say many striking things, but cannot say them again at will.
Art (n.) is never occupied with itself: no art can supply its own starting-point, and its subject-matter must always lie outside it.
Art (n.) that depends on conjecture always makes mistakes — medicine, navigation, generalship, statecraft — and is no less an art for it.
Art (n.) is many perceptions held in the mind; take them away and the artist cannot be told from the ignorant man.
Art (n.) is never invented and completed at once: from the stiff statues of Canachus to Polycletus, from four-colour painters to Apelles, every art grows by stages.
Art (n.) is reason imitating nature: innumerable arts were found by her teaching, for reason copies her and so discovers what life needs.
Art (n.) delights us, like a tree, by its height; no one takes pleasure in the roots or the trunk, though the one cannot exist without the other.
Art (n.) is enjoyed more by the poor, who see it displayed in public, than by its owners, who see it seldom and are sometimes stung to remember how they came by it.
Art (n.) is born of watching nature: verse was not invented by reasoning but by nature and the senses, and careful observation of them produced the rules.
Art (n.) strictly defined — what is fully known and beyond the caprice of opinion — leaves no room for oratory; the whole learned dispute over an art of speaking is a quarrel about a word.