George Eliot. Mintmark (№ 184696)

When I enter the hall, where the walls are covered with frescoes or hung with famous paintings, you feel an almost awe - like a child staring at a ceremony or on a majestic procession. Like me can enjoy life higher than mine. But as soon as I begin to consider the picture individually, as a life or abandons them, or is transformed into something violent and alien to me. Apparently I'm too stupid. I see so much, and understand less than half. And I feel like a fool. Sad when you say that you are a beautiful creation, and you don't understand why it's beautiful. It's like people are talking about the sky, and you're blind.