and intelligent, but they cannot be lovers of the beautiful. They may,
for example, appreciate the profound or interesting ideas in poetry,
but unless they can connect them with the rhythm-values of the sounds
of the words, they have only an intellectual or emotional, not an
aesthetic experience.

Yet, despite the omnipresence and supreme worth of sensation in beauty,
not all kinds are equally fit for entrance into the experience. From
the time of Plato, who writes of "fair sights and sounds" only, vision
and hearing have been recognized as the preeminently aesthetic senses.
These senses provide the basis for all the arts--music and poetry are
arts of sound; painting, sculpture, and architecture are arts of vision.
And there are good reasons for their special fitness. Most cogent of
all is the fact that vision and hearing are the natural media of
expression; sounds, be they words or musical tones, convey thoughts
and feelings; so do visual sensations--the facial expression or gesture
seen communicates the inner life of the speaker; and even abstract
colors and space-forms, like red and the circle, have independent
feeling-tones. A taste or a temperature sensation may be pleasant or
unpleasant, but has no meaning, either by itself, as a color or a tone
has, or through association, as a word has. It has no connection with
the life of feeling or of thought. Its chief significance is
practical--sweet invites to eating, cold impels to the seeking of a
warm shelter, touch is a preliminary to grasping. All the so-called
lower senses are bound up with instincts and actions. Of course sights
and sounds have also a significance for instinct--the color and form
and voice of the individual of the opposite sex, for example. But,
before acting on the prompting of instinct, the lover may pause and
enjoy the appealing color and form; he may connect his feelings with
them and hold on to and delight in the resulting experience--an