Fascinating mystical and artistic creed and a good-natured marvel of circumlocution. Practically everything Machen wrote in the 1890s had the touch of genius, and this even applies to his non-fiction, though this is actually presented as a fictional account from Machen’s familiar of imagination. Here Arthur Machen vaguely details how he separates high literature from mere reading material, and whilst such an essay may sound haughty and pretentious, it makes more sense when you realise he isn’t making a critical separation based on quality, but is espousing his hearty belief that art should exist to portray those unknown spheres of the infinite and ourselves. (Goodreads)