Everyone is impressed by anyone who is impressed by them –
how can you not be impressed by someone with such exquisite taste.
Hosting In The City.
Criticism is a meal reserved for guests.
Only after he is dead does a man have the capacity to properly critique himself  --
and note what from such men is heard.
Those who make a profession of analyzing, criticizing the creative works of others
are malfunctioning pay toilets.
Those capable  --  do in private;
those not, seek an alternative reputation by publicly whining about the paucity of capable ones;
when you can’t deliver the goods  --  ridicule another’s van.
Ordinary men prefer being criticized over being ignored –
that alone fills a hungry ear with enough fuel to crank the truck and get moving.
One reason men enjoy criticism is that it is straightforward,
 and easy to grasp;
“Who knows how this wound got in him  --  all I care about is sticking my finger in it,"
an unvoiced, universal sentiment  -- one man toward another – a man toward himself.
‘Tis the dense who have secretly agreed that criticism expressed amongst them will be treated as a distinct sign of intelligence,
“As long as it is not directed at me, of course,” add they.
If anything creative in the inner world can be accomplished via criticism,
man, with five thousand years of such effort behind him,
would now be up to his neck in meaningful originality.
Men by nature correct errors other men make in technology
(the manipulation of the physical world),
but only criticize what they deem faux pas in man’s inner one, which  --  you-who! --
is all they CAN do;
you cannot remodel the three little piggies’ house no matter how distasteful you find it, nor the sincerity of your dislike:
correction for grown ups  --   criticism for kiddies;
correction: the doing of the real  --  criticism: the doing of the not real;
awakening: the understanding of the two’s particular roles.
 

Man’s inner world is an Etch-A-Sketch,
with the ordinary believing their fingers are on the knobs;
to remain satisfied with being ordinary, such beliefs must be firmly in you, inscribed.
From the certain man’s early view, the most challenging feature of being ordinary is the near impossibility of realizing what that means while you are;
swimmers can’t tell the ship wrecked that they’re drowning:
the ship wrecked can’t tell the swimmers that they’re making useless efforts  --
that there is no ship wreck;
swimmers must discover this for themselves
(do they not themselves become drowners).
When the only place you know is where-you-are --
you never actually know where you are;
when the only self you know is the self you were born knowing  --
you have no self worth knowing;
even if matter can’t be created  --  that doesn’t matter --
the certain man goes ahead and creates himself anyway;
science doesn’t care: the laws of physics don’t care, hell --  nobody cares!  --

Said a father to a son:
“What is your explanation for the fact that simply looking directly at a matter/problem
in man’s inner-reality can substantially change it, (that is):
alter drastically the examining man’s perception of it,
and note: there is no counterpart for this in physical reality:
merely looking at a lump of coal will not affect what it is, nor what it is perceived to be.