Taste is the fundamental quality which sums up all the other

The enigmatic Comte de Lautréamont, a poet of shadow and brilliance, once wrote: “Taste is the fundamental quality which sums up all the other qualities. It is the nec plus ultra of the intelligence. Through this alone is genius the supreme health and balance of all the faculties.” In these words, he speaks not of taste as mere preference, nor of refinement as luxury, but of taste as the harmony of the soul—the sacred discernment that unites beauty, wisdom, and virtue. It is the inner compass of the enlightened mind, the invisible thread that binds thought to truth, art to meaning, and creation to the eternal laws of balance.

In the world of the ancients, to have taste was to live in right proportion. The Greeks called it sophrosyne—the temperance of spirit that guided the wise toward harmony in all things. For what is intelligence, if not the ability to perceive the fitting from the unfitting, the noble from the base, the beautiful from the grotesque? Taste, said Lautréamont, is the “nec plus ultra”—the highest expression of mind—for it does not dwell in intellect alone, but in the union of all faculties: intuition, emotion, reason, and imagination. To possess it is to live with balance; to lack it is to wander, brilliant yet blind.

Consider the life of Leonardo da Vinci, whose genius was not raw force but exquisite balance. He saw mathematics in the curve of a smile, science in the movement of a bird’s wing, philosophy in the fall of light. His greatness lay not only in invention but in taste—the refined discernment that allowed him to weave together art, reason, and nature without chaos. In him, as Lautréamont suggests, the faculties of man—mind, body, and spirit—were in perfect health and harmony. His works endure because they are not excess but equilibrium, not accident but grace.

So too does this truth unfold in every age: taste is the guardian against excess, the gentle ruler of genius. Many possess talent; few possess discernment. The one creates much, but without harmony, his creations crumble under their own weight. The other, guided by inner balance, crafts beauty that endures beyond time. Taste restrains without weakening, refines without dulling. It is the silent wisdom that whispers, “Enough.” Without it, even brilliance becomes madness; with it, passion becomes poetry, and power becomes peace.

In this way, taste is not superficial—it is moral, even spiritual. It is the intelligence of the heart, the wisdom that knows when to act and when to refrain, when to speak and when to listen. The vulgar mind seeks to overwhelm; the mind of taste seeks to harmonize. It does not chase attention, for it understands that beauty, truth, and goodness are not conquered—they are cultivated. Such balance is what Lautréamont calls “the supreme health of the faculties,” a condition where the human being becomes an instrument finely tuned to the symphony of the universe.

Look to the story of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor. Surrounded by power, temptation, and chaos, he ruled not through might but through moderation. His taste—his sense of proportion, of moral harmony—kept his soul intact while empires rose and fell. He wrote: “The art of living is more like wrestling than dancing.” Yet in his balance, in his quiet dignity, we see both—the wrestle and the dance united. His reign stands as proof that taste, guided by reason and virtue, can civilize not only the self but the world.

From these reflections arises the lesson: cultivate taste not as vanity, but as virtue. Let your life be a canvas of harmony, your mind a garden tended by reason, your actions measured by grace. Read widely, but choose wisely; create boldly, but with balance. Seek not only brilliance but proportion—for it is balance that grants endurance, and refinement that grants peace. To live with taste is to live as the ancients lived: not merely to exist, but to shape one’s being into art.

So remember, O seeker of wisdom, the teaching of Lautréamont: genius without taste is thunder without melody, fire without warmth. But when intelligence is guided by balance—when passion, reason, and virtue walk hand in hand—then the soul becomes whole. Strive, therefore, to cultivate not only thought, but discernment; not only strength, but harmony. For in taste, you will find not just beauty, but the highest form of wisdom—the divine equilibrium that transforms potential into perfection.