The artistic condition is when life is most tortuous, because it is the most vivid; it is when the painter, the poet loses him- or herself in the intensity of the living moment, when the artist transcends and becomes like a string resonating with tension and force. Solitary in his or her ob-con-servatory and suddenly struck like by lightening with the closeness and force of life around him or her, though not from within.
I cried different tears today than I have ever cried before, for sheer force of life. While I heard tales of anger, of love lost, of love found, of joy, of dying, and of meaning. Life is so present today and it crushed reason with such emotion that it became feeling, in my body and every fiber of my being, and tears crept from a new part of my eye that had not seen in a long long time. I am but an observer, and transformed for a moment to pure feeling.
Just being alive/ it can really hurt/ and these moments we're given/ are a gift from time./ Just let us try/ to give these moments back/ to those we love/ to those who will survive.
There are only two things that are important in this life: children, and art.