A Thing of Beauty...
John Keats once wrote,
"A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing."
I was thinking about this quote the other day while looking at a picture of the Painting of Pygmalion and Galatea by Jean Jerome. For the first time I really understood what Keats was trying to say about beauty. (ever get those moments when cliches finally hit you?)
It made me wonder, why do we consider things beautiful? I'm not asking for the simple "beauty is subjective" answer. What within us inspires us to think that something outside of ourselves is beautiful? (sounds self-glorifying doesn't it?)
Milan Kundera said that beautiful things are like friendship, and that friendship is just a mirror we ask others to hold up so that we may better see ourselves in it. (paraphrasing) Do you believe that this is true? Is beauty a concept we apply for our own purposes (and what purposes?) or is beauty actually something outside of ourselves, independent of our own thought?
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But I will seek the meadows by the shore: There will I wash and Purge these stains, if so I may appease Athena's wrath. Then will I find some lonely place, where I may hide this sword, beyond all others cursed, buried where none may see it, deep in earth.
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