Thought alone holds the tradition of the bygone life. The endless legacy of the past to the present is the secret source of human genius.
They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains. It’s a very bad definition, but it does apply to detective work.
The true genius shudders at incompleteness – and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.
The man who can perpetually bring his thought to bear upon his facts is a man of genius; but the man of the highest genius does not display genius at all times; if he did, he would be like to God.
The Artist is he who detects and applies the law from observation of the works of Genius, whether of man or Nature. The Artisan is he who merely applies the rules which others have detected.
Talent is like the marksman who hits a target which others cannot reach; genius is like the marksman who hits a target, as far as which others cannot even see.
Sometimes, indeed, there is such a discrepancy between the genius and his human qualities that one has to ask oneself whether a little less talent might not have been better.