Form (n.) that is beautiful is promoted by those with ugly or boring content: since the inside is judged by the outside, they bore one another boundlessly and then have their artists serve them up, spiced with all the Orient and Occident, to seem interesting.
Form (n.) in its true sense is shape necessitated by content — neither pleasing nor displeasing, because necessary; what is demanded today under the name is merely pleasing appearance.
Form (n.) in Plato's ideal sense is the concept deified by a man of overexcitable sensuality, for whom its charm had grown so strong.
Form (n.) has been invented by us: what appears is always something new, and only we, always comparing, gather it into the unity of a "form."
Form (n.) is, for the artist, the content, "the matter itself" — and so he lives in a topsy-turvy world where content, his life included, becomes merely formal.
Form (n.) is, for the artist, content — that is the price of being one; so content, one's life included, becomes merely formal.