It takes a wonderful brain and exquisite senses to produce a few stupid ideas.
George SantayanaRead
If artists and poets are unhappy, it is after all because happiness does not interest them.
Interpretation
Artists and poets might experience unhappiness because they seek deeper truths rather than mere happiness.
This quote by George Santayana suggests that the pursuit of happiness is not a priority for artists and poets, who are often more interested in exploring complex emotions and the human condition. For them, the deeper, often darker aspects of life provide greater inspiration and artistic material than mere joy or contentment. Thus, their unhappiness is not a failure but rather a reflection of their commitment to exploring profound themes.
In practice
In a gallery opening speech to highlight the deeper emotional journeys of the artists.
It takes a wonderful brain and exquisite senses to produce a few stupid ideas.
The working of great institutions is mainly the result of a vast mass of routine, petty malice, self interest, carelessness and sheer mistake. Only a residual fraction is thought.
There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval. The dark background which death supplies brings out the tender colours of life in all their purity.
Not to believe in love is a great sign of dullness. There are some people so indirect and lumbering that they think all real affection rests on circumstantial evidence.
To feel beauty is a better thing than to understand how we come to feel it. To have imagination and taste, to love the best, to be carried by the contemplation of nature to a vivid faith in the ideal, all this is more, a great deal more, than any science can hope to be.
The vital straining towards an ideal, definite but latent, when it dominates a whole life, may express that ideal more fully than could the best chosen words.
Writing keeps me at my desk, constantly trying to write a perfect sentence. It is a great privilege to make one's living from writing sentences. The sentence is the greatest invention of civilization. To sit all day long assembling these extraordinary strings of words is a marvelous thing. I couldn't ask for anything better. It's as near to godliness as I can get.
From 1968 on, I was pretty much the black, gay SF writer.
In the future, you won't buy artists' works; you'll buy software that makes original pieces of 'their' works, or that recreates their way of looking at things. You could buy a Shostakovich box, or you could buy a Brahms box. You might want some Shostakovich slow-movement-like music to be generated. So then you use that box.
Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
We have that illusion that we are 'deciding' what to make a character do, in order to 'convey our message' or something like that. But, at least in my experience, you are often more like a river-rafting guide who's been paid a bonus to purposely steer your clients into the roughest possible water.
Oh Beautiful for smoggy skies, insecticided grain, _x000D_ For strip-mined mountain's majesty above the asphalt plain. _x000D_ America, America, man sheds his waste on thee, _x000D_ And hides the pines with billboard signs, from sea to oily sea.
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