“The place was not only pleasant, but perfect, if once he could regard it not as a deception but rather as a dream. Even if the people were not ‘artists,’ the whole was nevertheless artistic. That young man with the long, auburn hair and the impudent face – that young man was not really a poet; but surely he was a poem.”

“The place was not only pleasant, but perfect, if once he could regard it not as a deception but rather as a dream. Even if the people were not ‘artists,’ the whole was nevertheless artistic. That young man with the long, auburn hair and the impudent face – that young man was not really a poet; but surely he was a poem.”

— Gilbert K. Chesterton