But mostly I find myself thinking that the redeeming thing about beauty is the emptiness of it, the awkwardness of attempts to pair beauty with social good, that you can be an otherwise horrible person with exquisite taste, and that this is actually is the only thing that makes beauty a worthwhile pursuit. There’s nothing metaphysical about beauty. It’s more than our attempts to describe it precisely because it doesn’t carry any other meaning, which makes it sort of like death, except not funny.
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