A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say: "May new sufferings torment your soul." (Søren Kierkegaard)

Suffering separates our reasons from our passions in imagination.
Reason makes a picture of this suffering. Passion makes a melody.

To imagine the difference between reason and passion is to suffer.
Composure draws them together, sings their harmony.