Not all great art must be intentionally “heavy”, but art with the kind of passion, authenticity and soul that might grant it cultural longevity always invokes deeper longings in us. Who can listen to Bach without feeling, even without putting it into words, the terrible tension of daily life interspersed with ecstatic moments of visionary release? Who can read Shakespeare without grappling with the human propensity for madness, vanity, lust — and the kind of beauty that can melt a heart?

It is human to err. Human to have the propensity to indulge in the extremes, sometimes manifesting in being a stickler for virtues, thereby projecting itself as a vice. 


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