Who hath seen the Phantom Ship, Her lordly rise and lowly dip, Careering o'er the lonesome main, No port shall know her keel again... Ah, woe is in the awful sight, The sailor finds there eternal night, 'Neath the waters he shall ever sleep, And Ocean will the secret keep
The artist should fear to become the slave of detail. He should strive to express his thought and not the surface of it. What avails a storm cloud accurate in form and color if the storm is not therein?
It is the first vision that counts. The artist has only to remain true to his dream and it will possess his work in such a manner that it will resemble the work of no other... for no two visions are alike, and those who reach the heights have all toiled up steep mountains by a different route. To each has been revealed a different panorama.