"the truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human
creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. to him… 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, his very breath is cut
off from him. he must create, must pour out creation. by some strange,
unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating…" pearl s. buck. hier gefunden.
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