Beauty, just as Stendhal said, is a promise of happiness. We love, as Plato saw, what we do not possess. Aesthetic pleasure is the pleasure of anticipation, and therefore of imagination, not of accomplishment.
An Essay on Beauty and Judgement. Nehamas.
‘Come on!’ Paul cries, ‘lay it in the circle.’ I am pushing a penny, with a stick, across the street. The goal is to push the penny into a chalk circle. ‘Ha,’ Paul laughs, ‘you always trip on that rock!’
‘Come on!’ Paul cries, ‘sit it in the circle.’ I am pushing a penny, with a stick- a twig, across the street. I fall, and stay on the ground. Barely moving, I tap the penny with my finger. ‘Disqualified!’ Paul starts running in circles.
‘Come on!’ Paul cries, ‘hit that in the circle.’ Pushing a penny, with a stick, I decide to smack it. The penny flies against the curb. ‘Beautiful,’ Paul looks at me pleased, ‘two more, now, two more.’ I never even got close to the circle.
‘Come on!’ Paul cries, ‘just pick it up if you have to!’ I am pushing, almost picking up the penny, with my stick. I push, it moves an inch. I push, it doesn’t move. ‘Ok one more turn,’ Paul says. ‘Hell, have another million!’