Who knows better than artists how much ugliness there is on the way to beauty, how many ghastly, mortifying missteps, how many days of granitic blockheadedness and dismaying ineptitude there is on the way to accomplishment, how partial all accomplishment is, how incomplete?
I really like where Tony Robbins says that we’re all hypnotized to see beauty this one specific way, and it’s true.
We also maintain – again with perfect truth – that mystery is more than half of beauty, the element of strangeness that stirs the senses through the imagination.
Many a genius has been slow of growth. Oaks that flourish for a thousand years do not spring up into beauty like a reed.