I admire the civilized theorists who enjoy contemplating Big Ideas, documenting their findings on love and hatred, poverty and death, for all to see. More power to them. I'm a mere skimmer of the Arts myself.
But I can't help wondering how much they've experienced these emotions personally. How much can you afford to separate yourself from these visceral pangs and tenuous triumphs and have any hope of accurately recording them? You must participate in this emotional struggle of life firsthand to truly appreciate it.
Writing about it is secondary.