True beauty is not conscious of itself.
We don’t ponder a flute to penetrate the beauty of a note. Likewise, the genius of men (Einstein, Picasso, van Gogh, Edison, et al) ought not to be confused with the men themselves.
I can only know you to the extent that I know myself. Intimacy is rooted in self-knowledge. If I haven’t plumbed my depths, I’ll stay stuck at the level of form and flesh.
Beauty is heedless. Do you think God is concerned with human affairs? Or the sun with what it illuminates?
When we look at something without the filter of mental commentary, we see.