“Art, the past. Art, the memory. Love, the art, because art cannot be forgotten. That art will bring the memories, painful and despairing, a deserved soft peace. Led into comfort, through art. Led into Heaven, through art. Art is eternal, because a memory cannot be forgotten. No, it can only be accepted. What changes the past? Nothing does. What changes something so beautiful, as what is meant to be art? Nothing should. A change upon beauty would erode it, damage it. Are we always accepting of such damages? We are not. But those damages will be seen in the art, nevertheless. Those imperfections had been sculpted, and they had made us notice ourselves, of what history did to hurt us. If nothing should change beauty, then improvement or healing will require knowing ourselves. To know ourselves as wounded and pained, and then to see the art that is the mirror. Art is eternal in what reflects.”
– Modern Romanticism