We know what a man ought to
look like; and if we have forgotten, we may behold a representation
by a Greek sculptor. Stand at the corner of a city street, and watch
the men pass; they are caricatures of the manly form. Yet ludicrously
ugly as they are, the intention is clear; we see even in these
degradations, what the figure of a man ought to be. In Greek art:
The Truth of Man, as by God first spoken,
Which the actual generations garble,
Was reuttered.
_Which the actual generations garble_--men as we see them are
clumsy and garbled versions of the original. But there is no value
in lamenting this; it is idle for men to gaze with regret and
longing at the Apollo Belvedere. It is much better to remember that
Perfection and Completion spell Death: only Imperfection has a future.
What if the souls in our ridiculously ugly bodies become greater and
grander than the marble men of Pheidias? Giotto's unfinished
Campanile is nobler than the perfect zero he drew for the Pope.
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