Shakespeare (n.) is not true to life, but his supple hand and individual strokes make every character look worth looking at.
Shakespeare (n.) is regarded almost as a spectacle of nature — contact not with a great human being but with a phenomenon.
Shakespeare (n.) is like a dream: all wrong, absurd, composite — and completely right by a law of its own.
Shakespeare (n.) writes similes that are, ordinarily, bad; if they are good they are a law to themselves, to be accepted the way one accepts scenery.
Shakespeare (n.) is perhaps a creator of language rather than a poet; set alone in Western culture, he can only be placed by being placed wrongly.
Shakespeare (n.) wrote enormous sketches, not paintings, dashed off by someone who could permit himself anything; to seek symmetry in their asymmetry is to miss them.
Shakespeare (n.) shows the dance of human passions — objectively, as a dance, not talking about it and not naturalistically.