The Forsytes were resentful of something, not individually, but as a family; this resentment expressed itself in an added perfection of raiment, an e… - John Galsworthy

Art is the one form of human energy in the whole world, which really works for union, and destroys the barriers between man and man. It is the continual, unconscious replacement, however fleeting, of oneself by another; the real cement of human life; the everlasting refreshment and renewal. For, what is grievous, dompting, grim, about our lives is that we are shut up within ourselves, with an itch to get outside ourselves. And to be stolen away from ourselves by Art is a momentary relaxation from that itching, a minute's profound, and as it were secret, enfranchisement. The active amusements and relaxations of life can only rest certain of our faculties, by indulging others; the whole self is never rested save through that unconsciousness of self, which comes through rapt contemplation of Nature or of Art.

Mechanism! Everywhere — mechanism! Devices for getting away from life so complete that there seemed no life to get away from.

That “small” emotion, love, grows amazingly when threatened with extinction.