“Is it not true that those elements – all the residuum of reality which we are obliged to keep to ourselves, which cannot be transmitted in talk, even from friend to friend, from master to disciple, from lover to mistress, that ineffable something which differentiates qualitatively what each of us has felt and what each of us is obliged to leave behind at the threshold of the phrases in which we can communicate with others only by limiting ourselves to externals, common to all and of no interest – are brought out by art which exteriorizes in the colors of the spectrum the intimate composition of those worlds which we call individuals and which, but for art, we should never know.”