I’ve always been fascinated by all the intersections between truth and beauty. That exploration takes up much of my creative time. However, I give this one to a poet who says it better than most, Emily Dickinson.

I died for beauty, but was scarce

Adjusted in the tomb,

When one who died for truth was lain

In an adjoining room.

–

He questioned softly why I failed?

“For beauty,” I replied.

“And I for truth, – the two are one;

We brethren are,” he said.

–

And so, as kinsmen met a night,

We talked between the rooms,

Until the moss had reached our lips,

And covered up our names.

-Emily Dickinson