Writing is just graceful word vomit, if you thing about it. You know, eloquent trash from our minds that we re-used and recycled, to reduce the capacity they take up.
People always say that one man's trash is another man's treasure. Guess that explains why some people find pieces of work more potent with beauty, while others can find that same piece of work potent with idiocy.
Some works pollute the minds of others, much like the battered soda cans in our seas.
Writing is just beautiful mind-trash, really.