What more can be said about poetry? Truly, I would like to call criticism a creation within creation. Because just as the great artists, from Homer to Aeschylus down to Shakespeare and Keats, did not turn directly to life for their subjects, but sought them in myth, and in legend and in ancient fairy tales, so the critic deals with materials that others have, so to speak, purified for him, and to which form and color of fantasy have already been added. In fact, even more: I would say that the highest criticism, being the purest form of personal impression, is in its own way more creative than creation, given that it has less reference to any criterion external to itself, and is, in fact, its own reason for existence, and, as the Greeks would say, in itself and by itself an end. Certainly, it is never hindered by the shackles of verisimilitude. No ignoble consideration of probability, that vile concession to the annoying repetitions of domestic or public life, ever touches it. From fiction one can appeal to fact. But from the soul there is no appeal. [O. Wilde - The Critic as Artist, with some observations on the importance of being useless]
For me, it can be extended to art in general