If I do not like Dante or Beethoven, that’s my problem. I, with my conscience than (the wealth of my soul and my feelings will be those that will undoubtedly be strongly impaired), which Beethoven or not I need to Dante me to continue his triumphant voyage across space and time to germinate renewed in the sensitivity of each new human generation until eternity. “I hate Don Quixote. Never will read James Joyce’s Ulysses, “we heard from many with pride and even arrogance even satisfied. These attitudes of closeness, never right, of course, but on the contrary, thoughtless and utterly irrational, deeply anchored in subjectivity and revealing huge gaps, and often for serious complex, preventing it (painfully) to participate and enjoy what their own right, as human beings we are, we belong: the Cultural Heritage of Humanity. What is there to do just that: that we throw ourselves joyfully to its full and total enjoyment and allow ourselves to be enveloped by its charitable fumes until they permeate our spirits and make us richer, more complex, more sensitive, more full. More human, basically.
Of course, a matter of open-mindedness, open-minded and unbiased, curiosity and restless soul, geared to new and novel and vriedad infinite universal art. But sensitivity, aware and dedicated education of taste, refinement and refinement of the senses and perceptual abilities and even even (and especially) work, study and analysis. Of course there are always some more or less marked preference in the intervening personal taste. I, for example, to stick with the music-some years now listen preferentially and almost the only jazz and classical music.