The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.
As a thinker I keep discovering that beauty itself is as much a fact, and a mystery...I consider nature's facts -- its beautiful and grotesque forms and events -- in terms of the import to thought and their impetus to the spirit. In nature I find grace tangled in a rapture with violence; I find an intricate landscape whose forms are fringed in death; I find mystery, newness, and a kind of exuberant, spendthrift energy.
At its best, the sensation of writing is that of any unmerited grace. It is handed to you, but only if you look for it.
Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we sense them.