There's no geist like the Zeitgeist.
Nothing they design ever gets in the way of a work of art
A Gustave Courbet portrait of a trout has more death in it than Rubens could get in a whole Crucifixion.
It was the basilica of gossip, the Vatican of inside dope.
There is virtue in virtuosity, especially today, when it protects us from the tedious spectacle of ineptitude.
Perhaps the rhinos and she-crocodiles whose gyrations between Mortimer's and East Hampton gives us our vision of social eminence today are content to entrust their faces to Andy Warhol's mingily cosmetic Polaroidising, but one would bet they would rather go to Sargent.