"Good miss, I know you meant no insult, but a grievous sin you have committed, though it is no crime. You place the work beneath the worker, the artist above the art... the artist is naught but the vessel for bringing into being something else... it would be as if I were to imply your child were less than you, when in fact it is not. My dear, art is not the finished work, nor is it the admiration it is the act of being lost in something so much so that the very idea of existence fades, and there is only the doing. Dancers, fencers, painters and diggers, all are artists too me. They are pure in pursit, and no longer care about the creation and the creator, as they understand both to be necessary for either to be. To try and say cannot escape his work is like saying you cannot escape your legs... no of course you cannot, but one does not define the other. However, only when a man lets go of himself, only when he foregoes the notions built up by "society" can he tap into the creative soul, into the true heart of mortal men. Only then will he be free to express what is found there in, and only then will it touch others outside himself... until then he is a pretender, making caricatures of what art is."<br/><br/>He sounded so assured, so full of fire... there was a passion in him about that, one that would not be denied nor tamed in any manner. While her eyes seemed to delve into him, his gladly welcomed her, taking the stare into his gaze, and drawing her in deeper slowly. The abyss was what was in those eyes, the unbridled void, the place before and after all,  where all were from and would return too eventually, and it spoke to her of this. In those eyes there was endless stillness, endless peace, and endless time for questions. No sound, no sensation, no word or thought, there was freedom from the self and personality. To look too long would hypnotize the weaker souls, draw them close where they might find his words all the more enchanting as he wove them round  and round again, like a pythons coils about the mind.<br/><br/>"Truth be told I know naught what I seek, only that I will know it when its found, and then it will inspire whatever is to come next. Such is the way of the bohemian." He winked and grinned broadly too her, teasing her with that lifestyle most would only ever dream of living, and waiting for the response he knew would come from her, seeming to enjoy himself utterly in her company this morn.