||[Sunday, Nov. 7th, 2010|07:22 pm]
The richest girl in town.
The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. To them... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death.
Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, their very breath is cut off.... They must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency they are not really alive unless they are creating.
-- Pearl S. Buck
Death is change.
The final line of the first graph is now tattooed on my left forearm.
Something else I can't do without besides creating things? Passion. A life without passion isn't a life worth living. Some of us, some of us who have always been quiet-minded, who were called "serious" as children, who've been told they were "old souls" need passion to keep us from falling backwards into the quiet, the seriousness, and drowning in it. Not all the time, but steep peaks of emotion, of joy, of connection remind us that we're alive, because the only promise that death holds is change.