On Beauty

For some reason or another I've been thinking a lot about beauty and grace. Why is it that these ideas and things that embody them transcend cultures? I am convinced that they are a more basic and primal form of communication that we are only rarely able to tap into if we are lucky. My thesis is that beauty comes from suffering; more precisely it comes from speaking universally through the only commonality across all human life outside of the basics required for survival: the inevitability and fear of death. I find this to be axiomatic, although I'm sure that you, dear reader, may take more convincing. That's fair. I have no way to do that now, but think about the most beautiful thing that lingers in your memory and think of why it is so transfixing. I bet that the fragility of life and inevitability of death and suffering comes through it in some manner.