kes little by little, and going
over them repeatedly to make the shadows. Where you would make it
darkest go over it many times; and, on the contrary, make but few
touches on the lights. And you must be guided by the light of the sun,
and the light of your eye, and your hand; and without these three things
you can do nothing properly. Contrive always when you draw that the
light is softened, and that the sun strikes on your left hand; and in
this manner you should begin to practise drawing only a short time every
day, that you may not become vexed or weary.

_Cennino Cennini._

CXXVII

_Charcoal._ You can't draw, you paint with it.

_Pencil._ It is always touch and go whether I can manage it even now.
Sometimes knots will come in it, and I never can get them out--I mean
little black specks. If I have once india-rubbered it, it doesn't make a
good drawing. I look on a perfectly successful drawing as one built
upon a groundwork of clear lines till it is finished. It's the same kind
of thing with red chalk--it mustn't be taken out: rubbing with the
finger is all right. In fact you don't succeed with any process until
you find out how you may knock it about and in what way you must be
careful. Slowly built-up texture in oil-painting gives you the best
chance of changing without damage when it is necessary.

_Burne-Jones._

CXXVIII

The simpler your lines and forms are the stronger and more beautiful
they will be. Whenever you break up forms you weaken them. It is as with
everything else that is split and divided.

_Ingres._

CXXIX

The draperies with which you dress figures ought to have their folds so
accommodated as to surround the parts they are intended to cover; that
in the mass of light there be not any dark fold, and in the mass of
shadows none receiving too great a light. They must go gently over,
describing the parts; but not with lines across, cutting the members
with hard notches, deeper than the part can possibly be; at the same
time, it must fit the body, and not appear like an empty bundle of
cloth; a fault of many painters, who, enamoured of the quantity and
variety of folds, have encumbered their figures, forgetting the
intention of clothes, which is to dress and surround the parts
gracefully wherever they touch; and not to be filled with wind, like
bladders puffed up where the parts project. I do not deny that we ought
not to neglect introducing some handsome folds among these draperies,