“Who ever told you that Raphael did not enjoy the life without, carrying everywhere with him the one inward idea of beauty which attracted and imbedded in its own amber every straw that the feet of the dull man trampled into mud?  As some lord of the forest wanders abroad for its prey, and scents and follows it over plain and hill, through brake and jungle, but, seizing it at last, bears the quarry to its unwitnessed cave,—­so Genius searches through wood and waste, untiringly and eagerly, every sense awake, every nerve strained to speed and strength, for the scattered and flying images of matter, that it seizes at last with its mighty talons, and bears away with it into solitudes no footstep can invade.  Go, seek the world without; it is for art the inexhaustible pasture-ground and harvest to the world within!”

“You comfort me,” said Glyndon, brightening.  “I had imagined my weariness a proof of my deficiency!  But not now would I speak to you of these labours.  Pardon me, if I pass from the toil to the reward.  You have uttered dim prophecies of my future, if I wed one who, in the judgment of the sober world, would only darken its prospects and obstruct its ambition.  Do you speak from the wisdom which is experience, or that which aspires to prediction?”

“Are they not allied?  Is it not he best accustomed to calculation who can solve at a glance any new problem in the arithmetic of chances?”

“You evade my question.”

“No; but I will adapt my answer the better to your comprehension, for it is upon this very point that I have sought you.  Listen to me!” Zanoni fixed his eyes earnestly on his listener, and continued:  “For the accomplishment of whatever is great and lofty, the clear perception of truths is the first requisite,—­truths adapted to the object desired.  The warrior thus reduces the chances of battle to combinations almost of mathematics.  He can predict a result, if he can but depend upon the materials he is forced to employ.  At such a loss he can cross that bridge; in such a time he can reduce that fort.  Still more accurately, for he depends less on material causes than ideas at his command, can the commander of the purer science or diviner art, if he once perceive the truths that are in him and around, foretell what he can achieve, and in what he is condemned to fail.  But this perception of truths is disturbed by many causes,—­vanity, passion, fear, indolence in himself, ignorance of the fitting means without to accomplish what he designs.  He may miscalculate his own forces; he may have no chart of the country he would invade.  It is only in a peculiar state of the mind that it is capable of perceiving truth; and that state is profound serenity.  Your mind is fevered by a desire for truth:  you would compel it to your embraces; you would ask me to impart to you, without ordeal or preparation, the grandest secrets that exist in Nature.  But truth can no more be seen by the mind unprepared for it, than the sun can dawn upon the midst of night.  Such a mind receives truth only to pollute it:  to use the simile of one who has wandered near to the secret of the sublime Goetia (or the magic that lies within Nature, as electricity within the cloud), ’He who pours water into the muddy well, does but disturb the mud.’” ("Iamb. de Vit.  Pythag.”)