Vernon Lee,
Proteus
(1925)
“ Art and whatever the poor word Art may stand for—is the man-made sanctuary of the legitimate, the innocent, the immaculately decent, because it is closed to the shifting needs, the partial truths, above all, the mine and thine, which trouble real life. This, in its way, is also a realm of otherness, inasmuch as it transcends the self with its here and its now. Yet an otherwise not merely recognized by Intelligence, but made by the heart’s desire out of the heart’s own substance and in desire’s own shape ”
