Streams of Thought and Creation

I've always thought of art as something beyond us all, something that exists independently. It is a twisting, shimmering stream of endless feeling and beauty and understanding and passion from which all great artists have quaffed and from which all innovators and creators draw their substance. It is not so much that an artist truly creates; rather, he dips his brush in the waters of the soul and paints blue deserts and purple trees or hears the song that flows through every living bring and captures just a few notes of it -- not enough to truly know the song, but enough to remind us of the song that we once knew and the song that we will yet one day sing.