Humanity is a group of people with special circumstances and feelings. The same feeling is felt by every individual at different times. One of us feels sadness, and the other feels joy. The feelings of life are the same for each individual, different in the order in which he experiences them. We all feel the loss of friends, the sting of love, the misery of betrayal, and the flame of jealousy.
From these feelings and from others, the components of our feelings are formed, but the writer rises to the human scale in his expression when he touches on these feelings, and his pen has been stripped of the tendency of subjectivity. The sadness of the villager over the jar of milk that was broken is sadness, and the sadness of the shrewd politician over the failure of a huge program is sadness, and if the writer reaches the depths of the human soul and his brush brings out sadness as a human emotion, then he has - with his pen - reached the soul of the politician and the milk seller alike.