“ The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this:
A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.

To him/ her….
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 tot his cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create—- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or builidings of something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him/her. (S)he must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown inward urgency (s)he is not really alive unless (s)he is creating”.

-Pearl Buck-