The truly creative mind is inhumanly sensitive.
To her a touch is a blow, a misfortune is a tragedy,
a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, and failure is death.
Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity
to create, create, create so that without the creating of music, poetry or books
her very breath is cut off from her.
She must create, must pour out creation.
By some strange, unknown, inward urgency she is not really alive
unless she is creating.
* Content and content ratings in this area are monitored solely by this member. Page owners have the ability to remove posts and/or block posters who do not follow the content rating or who post unwanted content. In addition, each member can block/ignore another member using the Block/Ignore Members" link on the Account
Options screen.
Printed from https://webx1.writing.com/main/profile/notebook/pshepard
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 6:05am on Mar 15, 2026 via server WEBX1.