I finished this book by Patti Smith tonight, and I underlined the following:

I know that very well, one cannot ask for a life, or two lives. One can only warrant the hope of an increasing potency in man´s heart.

She later mentions:

Our quiet rage gives us wings, the possibilty to negotiate the gears winding backwards, uniting all time.

Smith describes interacting with the marvelous ancient Ghent Altarpiece in Belgium, a lifelong fascination of hers:

Once I touched the surface of the exterior panel and was filled with awe, not in the religious sense, but for the artists who realized it, sensing their turbulent spirits and their majestic concentrative calm.

It´s funny. I have had the same realization lately when I think about creators. People who take the (often painful amount of) time to birth a project. I am humbled that people care enough and give birth to books and alterpieces and productive tools and music and even other humans.