Tuesday, August 28, 2007

From Oscar Wilde's The Critic as Artist (Commonplace Book)

This is for you Streebo. Not to change your mind -- just for you to think about.

That is what the highest criticism really is, the record of one's own soul. It is more fascinating than history, as it is concerned simply with ones self. It is more delightful than philosophy, as its subject is concrete and not abstract, real and not vague. It is the only civilized form of autobiography, as it deals not with the events, but with the thoughts of one's life; not with the physical accidents of deed or circumstance, but with the spiritual moods and imaginative passions of the mind.

1 comment:

Streebo said...

Thank you for posting that, Geoff.