A work of art is neither an absolute deception nor an absolute truth, but emerges from a dead center between the two. A thought which is heavily beautified with creativity becomes nothing but a deceptive shadow of the writer's truth, and the one which bears the ambiguity of intellect becomes a faraway flame of his truth and loses that element of belongingness which the air of creativity brings. This sense of belongingness lends a dynamic character to a thought and passes it to the devorers of art through generations. Creating a work of art is like flying the kite of truth, gently swaying it with the wind but not letting it go completely off the hook.

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