Such discussions help us very little to enjoy what has been well

Such discussions help us very little—Ah, what weight these words carry. The seeking of answers in abstract arguments and detached dialogues often leads us far from the true essence of beauty and art. In this, Walter Pater speaks not just of the intellectual mind, but of the spirit, which yearns not for definitions, but for experience. For what good is it to dissect the nature of beauty if, in doing so, we miss the joy of beholding it? What use is the theory, if it blinds us to the living truth before our eyes? Pater’s words call us to an ancient wisdom, reminding us that the soul finds nourishment not in words, but in the direct encounter with the wonder of life itself.

The true artist, whether in the medium of painting or poetry, does not labor in a void of analysis. Their work is born from an instinct, an intuition that transcends reason, that does not seek to explain but to express. Think of the great Homer, whose epic works were not birthed from academic discourse, but from a deep well of experience and vision. The heroes of the Iliad did not sit to ponder the philosophy of war; they fought with the fire of life coursing through them, and in their struggle, beauty emerged. Similarly, the brushstrokes of Leonardo da Vinci were not drawn from the study of technique alone, but from an intimate connection to the world as he perceived it. Their creations are not simply objects of study—they are the inspiration of the spirit.

To enjoy what has been well done in art or poetry is a gift that the soul must earn through patience and openness. No scholar, no matter how learned, can teach us to truly feel the magnificence of a painting or a sonnet. The heart must be willing to surrender itself to the experience, to let go of the desire to control, to analyze, to classify. For when we engage with art, we do not approach it as we do a problem to be solved, but as a mystery to be experienced. The mere study of an object does not bring us closer to its essence; rather, it is the participation in its being that opens our hearts to its depths.

In the ancient world, the philosophers debated endlessly, seeking to define virtue, beauty, and truth. But did their words bring them closer to these ideals? Plato himself, in his works, separated the ideal form from the material world, yet it was not in the perfection of his theory that the beauty of his philosophy lay. It was in his ability to guide us toward understanding, toward contemplating the deeper mysteries of life. Likewise, Aristotle spoke of ethics and the good life, yet his wisdom was not in the precision of his logic alone, but in the way he guided us to experience life fully, to live virtuously, and in doing so, to create beauty through our actions.

Discrimination between what is more and what is less excellent—this is the challenge of all who seek to appreciate art or poetry. It is a challenge not of reason, but of sensitivity. The wise are those who approach the world not as critics, but as lovers. To distinguish excellence is not to judge with cold detachment, but to feel with an open heart, to recognize the divine in the world, and to be moved by it. Consider the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, who said that “The artist is not a person endowed with the ability to express beauty, but a person who is willing to be transformed by it.” The truly great, then, are those who surrender themselves to the experience of beauty, who allow it to reshape their soul, who do not stand apart from it but enter into its dance. Only then can they truly discern the greatness of a work.

And so, the lesson is clear: It is not through the mind alone that we come to know beauty and art; it is through the heart, through the soul’s engagement with the world. Let us not reduce art to a mere intellectual exercise, nor poetry to a matter of formal rules and conventions. Instead, let us immerse ourselves fully in the experience, and allow it to transform us. Let us go to the painting not to dissect it, but to feel its presence, to surrender to its mood. Let us read the poem not as a critic, but as a lover, who loses themselves in the melody of the words.

Practical actions, then, are simple but profound: Seek not to define beauty with words, but to experience it with your senses. Stand before a work of art, listen deeply to a poem, and allow yourself to be moved. Do not rush to judge what is less or more excellent, but instead, embrace the mystery of what is presented to you. Only in this way will you come to understand, not through your intellect alone, but through the wisdom of feeling. In this, the true meaning of beauty will reveal itself, and you will discover that the finest works of art are not merely to be studied, but to be lived.