I had come down here, not to serve God as a craftsman should, but to show my people how great a craftsman I was. They cared not.

And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, but is it Art?'

And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame, But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They are!

It's clever, but is it Art?