Nothing Is More Vain Than To Seek

Art And Poetry Cannot Do Without One Another. Yet The Two Words Are Far From Being Synonymous. By Art I Mean The Creative Or Producing, Work-making Activity Of The Human Mind. By Poetry I Mean, Not The Particular Art Which Consists In Writing Verses, But A Process Both More General And More Primary: That Intercommunication Between The Inner Being Of Things And The Inner Being Of The Human Self Which Is A Kind Of Divination (as Was Realized In Ancient Times; The Latin Vates Was Both A Poet And A Diviner). Poetry, In This Sense, Is The Secret Life Of Each And All Of The Arts.

Since Art Is A Virtue Of The Intellect, It Demands To Communicate With The Entire Universe Of The Intellect. Hence It Is That The Normal Climate Of Art Is Intelligence And Knowledge: Its Normal Soil, The Civilized Heritage Of A Consistent And Integrated System Of Beliefs And Values; Its Normal Horizon , The Infinity Of Human Experience Enlighted By The Passionate Insight Of Anguish Or The Intellectual Virtues Of A Contemplative Mind.

Every Work Of Art Reaches Man In His Inner Powers. It Reaches Him More Profoundly And Insidiously Than Any Rational Proposition, Either Cogent Demonstration Or Sophistry. For It Strikes Him With Two Terrible Weapons, Intuition And Beauty, And At The Single Root In Him Of All His Energies... Art And Poetry Awaken The Dreams Of Man, And His Longings, And Reveal To Him Some Of The Abysses He Has In Himself.

The Act Of Philosophizing Involves The Character Of The Philosopher.

Things Are Opaque To Us, And We Are Opaque To Ourselves.