matter how careful, of beautiful _things_; for it exists in the
mind primarily and only through mind becomes embodied in things; and
it cannot be understood by a mere inductive study of aesthetic
experiences--the mind plus the object--just as they come; because, as
we have just stated, they are changeful and subject to correction,
therefore uncertain and often misleading. The aesthetic impulse may
falter and go astray like any other impulse; a description of it in
this condition would lead to a very false conception. No, we must
employ a different method of investigation--the Socratic method of
self-scrutiny, the conscious attempt to become clear and consistent
about our own purposes, the probing and straightening of our aesthetic
consciences. Instead of accepting our immediate feelings and judgments,
we should become critical towards them and ask ourselves, What do we
really seek in art and in life which, when found, we call beautiful?
Of course, in order to answer this question we cannot rely on an
examination of our own preferences in isolation from those of our
fellow-men. Here, as everywhere, our purposes are an outgrowth of the
inherited past and are developed in imitation of, or in rivalry with,
those of other men. The problem is one of interpreting the meaning of
art in the system of culture of which our own minds are a part.
Nevertheless, the personal problem remains. Aesthetic value is
emphatically personal; it must be felt as one's own. If I accept the
standards of my race and age, I do so because I find them to be an
expression of my own aesthetic will. In the end, my own will to beauty
must be cleared up; its darkly functioning goals must be brought to
light.

Now, unless we have thought much about the matter or are gifted with
unusual native taste, we shall find that our aesthetic intentions are
confused, contradictory, and entangled with other purposes. To become