One thing, however, did become clear to him – why so many perfect works of art did not please him at all, why they were almost hateful and boring to him, in spite of a certain undeniable beauty.
Workshops, churches, and palaces were full of these fatal works of art; he had even helped with a few himself.
They were deeply disappointing because they aroused the desire for the highest and did not fulfill it.
They lacked the most essential thing – mystery. That was what dreams and truly great works of art had in common: mystery.
From Hermann Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund (1930)