Being able to eminently receive what you know that you could not have created is the most commonplace of experiences, and especially perhaps in regard to art, whereas in other more discursive fields comparable results might be plausibly achieved given the right circumstances and a linear augmentation of already available talents. But then, say you are the most discerning of critics, couldn't you conceivably, given enough time, subject yourself to a systematic randomness of stimuli generated by pure combinatorics and employ your finely tuned critical sense to sift through the chaos, to follow up traces and suggestions, so as to eventually pare down the contents and reveal something truly remarkable? In other words, isn't there an imaginable algorithm that would transform being an acceptor into being a creator? Apparently this is not the case, and not just because of time constraints. The critical sense, fine as it may be, is good only for wholes and not for parts. If it set itself to following spoors it would get hopelessly lost in a tangle of competing directions. It can't compute hints. It is even likely that confronted with a series of slightly varied alternatives of something almost complete it would still have no idea which way to go. Aren't there already many examples of this, of the critic being of no use to the artist even in the finishing stages of a work. Here it is even more salient that something in genuine creativity seems to come from elsewhere, even for the artist whose magic is ascribed to diligent reworkings. And indeed it is just this magic which the acceptor applauds most loudly, it is recognised but in a passive mode. So it is not just a refinement of selection that is in play, but something else no less intrinsic to consciousness but far upstream.