"I don't believe great art comes just from pure imagination - it also comes from life experience and a lot of pain."
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Roland Emmerich My life, through ling'ring long, is lodg'd in lair of loathsome ways,My death delay'd to keep from life the harm of hapless days.My sprites, my heart, my wit and force in deep distress are drown'd;The only loss of my good name is of these griefs the ground.
[...]Help gods, help saints, help sprites and powers that in the heaven do dwell!Help ye that are to wail ay wont, ye howling hounds of hell!Help man, help beasts, help birds and worms that on the earth doth toil!Help fish, help fowl that flocks and feed upon the salt sea soil!Help echo that in air doth flee, shrill voices to resound,To wail this loss of my good name, as of these griefs the ground. --
Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade
He bravely broach’d his boiling bloody breast
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William Shakespeare Nine