As always, too, his individual remarks frequently give us, not merely the satisfaction of agreement, but that of piquant difference or curiosity. We may agree with him about Bacchylides and Pindar—though, by the way, the man who had the taste and the courage to admire a girl as χλωραύχενα—as possessing that yellow ivory tint of skin which lights so magnificently[236]—was certainly one to dare to challenge convention with what its lilies-and-roses standard must have thought a “fault.” But we cannot help astonishment at being told that both Pindar and Sophocles “often have their light quenched without any obvious reason, and stumble in the most unfortunate manner.”[237] For those of us who are less, as well as those who are more, enthusiastic about Sophocles would probably agree in asking, “Where does he ‘go out in snuff,’ where does he ‘fall prostrate’ in this fashion?” Surely all the faults cannot be in the lost plays! We want a rather fuller text of Hyperides than we possess to enable us quite to appreciate the justice of the comparison of him with Demosthenes, but that justice is striking even on what we have. On the other hand, we are rather thrown out by the contrast of Plato and Lysias—it may be owing to the same cause. Even if the comparison were one of style only, we should think it odd to make one between Burke and Berkeley, though the _Sublime and Beautiful_ would help us a little here. Footnote 236: Simonides had used the word literally of the nightingale, and there are those who hold that Bacchylides merely meant to compliment the lady’s _voice_. But let us think more nobly of him. Footnote 237: σβέννυνται δε ἀλόγως πολλάκις, καὶ πίπτουσιν ἀτυχέστατα.