and then there is one...

This is something that always happens to me, and for some reason I'm always surprised when it happens, as if I forgot the hundred other times it happened.

Let us speak in epitomes:

All I love in film can be boiled down to one director: Orson Welles

All I love in fiction can be boiled down to one author: Dashiell Hammett

All I love in poetry can be boiled down to one poet: T. S. Eliot

All I love in prose can be boiled down to one writer: C. S. Lewis

All I love in philosophy can be boiled down to one thinker: Etienne Gilson

All I love in rock-n-roll can be boiled down to one guitarist: Slash

All I love in jazz can be boiled down to one artist: John Coltrane

All I love in art history can be boiled down to one aspect: architecture

All researches must come to an end, all arguments, to a conclusion. Everything must come to a point. And at that point, the only thing that remains is disinterested contemplation. And why would I want to waste my time with an infinite variety when in each thing I can contemplate the best possible?