Works (or rather kinds) that must be placed outside criticism and approval, because merely speaking of them to the public would be a scandal — and because — one soils one’s taste by applying it (were it only for a moment) to these subjects.
51 (Bundle 26.)
A deceptive voice has ruined the world and the arts by crying to us: Invent and you will live. What was ancient and known no longer sufficed for mankind; it wanted novelties and forged monsters from them, which it persists in making real.
52 (Bundle 39.)
This man’s style (they say) is not natural. I shall add: neither are his thoughts. I mean that when he thinks, it is not naturally or through a property nature gave his organs. But he thinks through effort, through artifice, through work. He forces his brain to perform an operation that does not take place in it through the natural disposition in which it finds itself, or through a modification arising from the impression some object has made on it, but through a kind of mechanism exercised by its substance by the one who possesses it. This brain is made active only by will. Thus, since it has received nothing, it gives back nothing. It has the play of thought, but not its production. One feels effort, work, care, and everything except talent. One hears the loom at work, but this loom works empty.
53 (Same leaf.)
These fine and delicate organs should perform thought only as an Aeolian harp performs sounds. Placed at the top of a tower, it resounds only when the moving air strikes it in its course and nature sends the wind toward it.
54 (Bundle 3.)
— and my imagination has a singular empire over my hands.
55 (Same leaf.)
After laying out the magnificent gardens of the Quirinal Palace, the celebrated Le Nôtre said to Pope Clement XI, who asked what he wanted as a reward: “Most Holy Father, grant me the happiness of still having passions.”
56 (id.)
Paintings do not make painters, nor do books make authors. Only impressions that come from the objects themselves have enough force to modify our bodily constitution. That is why, in countries where works are very common and artists numerous, genius is rare. Nature is necessarily the last thing one looks at there, consults, and feels the influence of.
57 (Bundle 38.)
...One sees everything through a prism. These false colors dazzle at first, but in the long run everything is more beautiful to unaided sight.
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The Notebooks of Joseph Joubert, Volume II · Book Mode · Diotimos