One of my favourite writers in my late teen years was James Thurber.
He died in 1961, and was already gone before I discovered him. Known primarily as a cartoonist for The New York Post, his writing grew in strength and depth as his eyesight failed. He stated that if he had the choice, he would still rather write than draw, since that was the more important connection.
Connection is the key word.
Years later, while visiting a friend's house, he was lectured by his stern, authoritarian father. I noticed in the course of it, that this man had a full collection of Thurber in his bookcase, and I felt that we shared some sort of kinship, though I never found a way to bring that up.
I am primarily visual, feasting on photography, on flowers, on patterns in water or ice....I focus as much attention on the way a woman's eyes move while she speaks, as I do on how her sweater drapes on her breast.
Nevertheless, I am with Thurber in that it that connection which is most important. I need to hear what someone else thinks about a subject, and how they feel about my opinion. It's only that dynamic exchange that makes the opinion worth having.
Ideas in a vacuum seem ultimately futile.