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It is often like this: Once upon a time there was a man who loved a woman with as fierce a love one can imagine but this love did not satisfy a wider circle of influence. At every point along the way huge boulders were thrown between himself and his love. He was driven apart and forced to conquer that which had separated him in the first place. All this time his love is changing. She is growing a bit older, a bit more experienced. She begins to demand more. And as the lover is engaged in his distant fights and struggles he stops by occasionally to pay his lover a visit. And when he does the same argument takes place. "Come back and forget this odd struggle. Let's just make our lives together and forget the world and its stupidities." And the lover pauses, promises are made, dreams are constructed that ensure a bridge, however thin, exists between the two lovers.

Madness as the 13th Muse. I saw this. It was a quote from the old poet Novalis: "Man might discover all kinds of new possibilities if he were to begin to love sickness..." Perhaps it means that sickness is a truer anchor than anything else from which a writer can view the outline of a world. The physician of the soul.