Albert Kinross

“ Afterwards, the busy streets that led to the great Opera House, where some of the world's sweetest singers had thrilled him with some of the world's sweetest melody; not him alone—for he had been but an atom, an infinitesimal part of that vast audience. A part of what? Of the very cream, of the topmost blossoming, of all that London boasted! He had formed a part of that magic coronal, pre-eminent, privileged, by right of its beauty, its health, its brilliance, and fastidious appetites. He had been part of this world; he would stay with it now, always—its life was the one Art! ”

“ Even his successful demolition of the arrogant Lady May, his trumpery triumph at the Opera bar, the promiscuous men whom he had attracted, magnetised, stood ample evidence in confirmation of this estimate... He had ten times more music in him than all the other dancers together, and instead of expressing it in written signs, he would live it; he himself would enjoy this luxuriance, this tenfold capacity—he, and he only. There should be no burdensome division between Art and Life—but Life, nothing but Life. ”

“ He would make of it, and would wear it as some strange power; a force, baffling and compelling, impalpable and subtle, ever-present yet never manifest; a secret religion, a completed Pantheism, that should make him eminent—elusively eminent among mankind. ”