de Botton where he says, we don't

cry because something is sad.

We cry because something is more beautiful

than we expected it to be.

So essentially, we are moved to tears

in order to address, to correct an imbalance,

a cognitive dissonance between what we expected

and what we actually found, to realize

that what you found was more conducive to your needs

than what you thought you were looking for,

the sort of the serendipity of melancholy,

of aesthetic experience, when it feels like something

is unexpectedly so much more moving than you thought

it would be.

This is such a mystery.

These moments in which we are moved

to the point of tears, that define

our lives, these moments of aestheticized,

italicized experience, these moments

pregnant with significance, these moments

of revelatory ecstasy, ecstatic signification.

It's such a cool idea.

I love it when music does it to me, when theater does it

to me, when films do it to me, when

staring into the iris of a lover's eye does it to me.

You get the goosebumps.

You get the shivers down your spine.

These moments.

Mmm.

You don't cry because something is sad.

You cry because it is more beautiful

than you expected it to be.