Critics are like eunuchs in a harem; they know how it's done, they've seen it done every day, but they're unable to do it themselves.

They builded a tower to shiver the sky and wrench the stars apart,

Till the Devil grunted behind the bricks: "It's striking, but is it Art?"

The stone was dropped at the quarry-side and the idle derrick swung,

While each man talked of the aims of Art, and each in an alien tongue.

Raz: "If you can't say something nice, don't say something at all."

Jasper Rolls: "The young boy's protests, though heartfelt, quickly lapsed into simplistic and tedious platitudes. One and a half stars!"