“Beauty expressed by the artist cannot awaken in us an emotion which is kinetic or a sensation which is purely physical. It awakens, or ought to awaken, or induces, or ought to induce, an esthetic stasis, an ideal pity or an ideal terror, a stasis called forth, prolonged, and at last dissolved by what I call the rhythm of beauty.
(...)
To speak of these things and to try to understand their nature and, having understood it, to try slowly and humbly and constantly to express, to press out again, from the gross earth or what it brings forth, from sound and shape and colour which are the prison gates of our soul, an image of the beauty we have come to understand ― that is art.
(...)
Art (...) is the human disposition of sensible or intelligible matter for an esthetic end.
(...)
Plato, I believe, said that beauty is the splendour of truth. I don’t think that it has a meaning, but the true and the beautiful are akin. Truth is beheld by the intellect which is appeased by the most satisfying relations of the intelligible; beauty is beheld by the imagination which is appeased by the most satisfying relations of the sensible.”
in A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN, de James Joyce
* bold meu
TRUTH GOODNESS AND BEAUTY
The Cure
(...)
So look, but you wont see it
Listen, and you wont hear it
Reach out, and you wont hold it
You cant know it, but you can free it
You cant name it, but could feel it
(...)
Waiting for a world too true
Holding for a world too good
Hanging for a world too beautiful...
Wishing for a [boy]...like you
Hoping for a [boy]...like you
Hungry for a [boy]...like you
No...not like you...you