Critics are perhaps most to be pitied, for they produce no art of their own but rather exist to limit expression. While they may lift some art up, they are most in their element when they tear art down.

The irony is not lost on me that in pointing this out I have become a critic of critics. Perhaps criticism is different from serving as a critic, for whom criticism is a lifestyle. Some things are, in fact, rightly criticized. Some things must be brought into the light of day and exposed for what they are – but this is not the function of a critic, is it?

In what areas of our own lives do we serve as critics, and how might we change that?