"We are made in the image of the Creator, and specifically in the image of the creating word, the Second Person of the Trinity. Therefore, when we use words to shape our world — as we do not only when we make books and ballads but also when we make duck soup and gasoline, mansard roofs and French doors — we come marvelously close to making something out of nothing. This is clearest in music and literature: a sonata comes, seemingly, 'out of the nowhere into the here'; a novel is a complete world handed to the reader practically ex nihilo. But a harpsichord or a double hung window, a dish of tripe Nicoise or a computer spreadsheet program are no less manifestations of the power by which our words have effect beyond our powers.'
" 'Good boy,' Madeleine murmured, sparing the stick and proffering the carrot. 'That was a lot of ground to cover in a short time. Head for the barn and I'll give you sugar lumps.'
'But the root of all creativity,' Pietro said proceeding headlong, 'whether of the divine, strictly ex nihilo variety or of the human, less-strict, out-of-thin-air sort, is one thing and one thing only: delight. The great world exists because it is the apple of God's eye — because he says 'Good!' (or, more accurately, 'Tov meod!') to it after every day and every moment of its triumphant leap out of nothing into being at his voice. And the lesser worlds we make by words — our poiemata, our poems, whether of science, art, or craft — all likewise exist because somewhere a poet could be found to speak them into the dance of her delight . . .'
"'Whoa, boy!' Madeleine said breathlessly. 'You made it! Now tell me honestly, wasn't that a whole lot better than fuming to yourself about the subject?'
"Pietro looked puzzled. 'Yes, I guess it was,' he said. 'It must be Providence again, working things out so nicely.'
"'Providence, my eye,' Madeleine shot back. 'I've heard every word you mumbled back there. I mentioned 'creativity' just to give you a break with your silly vow.'
"'That could still be providence,' Pietro said creatively. 'I never said whose.'"
