sense of the sanctity which attaches to personality whenever it appears.
There come moments, however, when some intimate experience is confided to
us, and then, in the pause of talk, we become aware that we are in
presence of a human soul behind the familiar face of our friend, and that
we are on holy ground. In such moments the quick emotion, the sudden
thrill, bear eloquent witness to that deeper and diviner life in which we
all share, but of which we rarely seem aware. This perception of the
presence of a man's soul comes to us when we stand before a true work of
art. We not only uncover our heads, but our hearts are uncovered as well.
Here is one who through all his skill speaks to us in a language which we
understand, but which we rarely hear. A great work of art not only
liberates the imagination, but the heart as well; for it speaks to us more
intimately than our friends are able to speak, and that reticence which
holds us back from perfect intercourse when we look into each other's
faces vanishes. A few lines read in the solitude of the woods, or before
the open fire, often kindle the emotion and imagination which slumber
within us; in companionship with the greatest minds our shyness vanishes;
we not only take but give with unconscious freedom. When we reach this
stage we have reached the man who lives not only by but in the work, and
whose innermost nature speaks to us and confides in us through the form of
speech which he has chosen.

The higher the quality of the work, the clearer the disclosure of the
spirit which fashioned it and gave it the power to search and liberate.
The plays of Sophocles are, in many ways, the highest and most
representative products of the Greek literary genius; they show that
genius at the moment when all its qualities were in harmony and perfectly
balanced between the spiritual vision which it formed of life, and the art
form to which it commits that precious and impalpable possession. One of
the distinctive qualities of these plays is their objectivity; their