His most recent efforts seem lifelike. He dreams that his creation is alive. Not only alive, but perfect in ways that suggest to him perfection of thought and feeling, the embodiment of perfect being. He loves the implications of the forms he has created.
He constantly refines proportions as his ideas
and feelings are pushed to new levels. He brings all the skill he has to
bear on the work. If his need were not so great, where would he find the
strength, the skill, the endurance?