Self-denial was incomprehensible to him, unless it formed part of some aesthetic regimen. I stood with him once and watched a line of peasants laboring a turnip field. A Millet brought to life. And his only remark was: It is beautiful that they are they and that we are we. For him even the most painful social confrontations and contrasts, which would have stabbed the conscience of even the vulgarest nouveau riche, were stingless. Without significance except as vignettes, as interesting discords, as pleasurable because vivid examples of the algedonic polarity of existence.
讓·弗朗索瓦·米勒（Jean-François Millet，1814年10月4日－1875年1月20日）法國巴比松派畫家Millet lived all year round at
characterized by or relating to pain especially as associated with pleasure