The cover of the first U.K. edition.
Why should you think that beauty, which is the most precious thing in the world, lies like a stone on the beach for the careless passer-by to pick up idly? Beauty is something wonderful and strange that the artist fashions out of the chaos of the world in the torment of his soul. And when he has made it, it is not given to all to know it. To recognize it you must repeat the adventure of the artist. It is a melody that he sings to you, and to hear it again in your own heart you want knowledge and sensitiveness and imagination.
Above: from The Moon and Sixpence by W.S. Maugham
Portrait of Paul Gauguin the inspiration for Maugham's book.
Each one of us is alone in the world. He is shut in a tower of brass, and can communicate with his fellows only by signs, and the signs have no common value, so that their sense is vague and uncertain. We seek pitifully to convey to others the treasures of our heart, but they have not the power to accept them, and so we go lonely, side by side but not together, unable to know our fellows and unknown by them. We are like people living in a country whose language they know so little that, with all manner of beautiful and profound things to say, they are condemned to the banalities of the conversation manual. Their brain is seething with ideas, and they can only tell you that the umbrella of the gardener's aunt is in the house.
Above: from The Moon and Sixpence by W.S. Maugham
Still from The Moon and Sixpence, 1942. George Sanders (right) as Charles Strickland.
2 comments:
a lovely post, thank you.
Did you guys go to the antiquarian book fair in the city last weekend?
No, we missed it. We were in Jersey last weekend. Did you go?
I always like romantic tales of artists even if they are exaggerated. Stuff like Horse's Mouth, The Masterpiece, Moon and Sixpence, and Agony and the Ecstasy etc.
I just reread Maugham recently!
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