Passion, you see, can be destroyed by a doctor. It cannot be

Hear the haunting words of Peter Shaffer, who in his play Equus declared: “Passion, you see, can be destroyed by a doctor. It cannot be created.” This line, spoken by the troubled psychiatrist Martin Dysart, is not merely about medicine, but about the eternal struggle between the fire of the soul and the hand of authority. For passion—that divine flame that drives men to greatness, art, and even madness—cannot be manufactured by reason, nor conjured by science. It can only be born in the mysterious depths of the human heart. And yet, as Shaffer reminds us, it can be extinguished by those who, in the name of order, seek to suppress it.

The doctor in this quote is more than a healer of the body; he is a symbol of society’s impulse to regulate, tame, and normalize the unruly energies of the human spirit. Medicine can cure disease, soothe pain, and restore the body—but it cannot kindle the wild fire of the heart. Indeed, when passion burns too brightly, society often turns to its “doctors” to dull the flame, to medicate, to normalize, to make the deviant ordinary once more. Shaffer warns that in this process, something essential may be lost: the very vitality that gives life meaning.

History itself offers testimony. Consider the life of Vincent van Gogh, whose art blazed with color and intensity born of inner torment. Doctors and family alike sought to calm his storms, but in quelling his madness they also risked stifling the passion that poured forth onto canvas. His paintings, now revered as masterpieces, were created from that same fire society sought to extinguish. Van Gogh proves Shaffer’s truth: passion can be suppressed, medicated, even destroyed—but it cannot be artificially created.

This is not to say that medicine or discipline is an enemy of passion. Rather, Shaffer points to the tragic imbalance that occurs when society values order above vitality. For passion is dangerous: it can drive men to love with abandon, to create with ferocity, or to act with violence. But without it, life becomes sterile. As Dysart laments in Equus, curing the boy of his obsession may restore him to “normal,” but it will also strip him of the ecstasy that gave his life meaning. Passion is thus both blessing and curse, gift and burden, but always necessary for true humanity.

The origin of the quote lies in Shaffer’s exploration of modern life’s emptiness. He saw that in an age of science and reason, passion was often pathologized. Obsession, ecstasy, and madness—once the fire of prophets and poets—were treated as sickness to be managed. His words remind us that though medicine may heal, it must never forget that the soul’s fire is not a disease but a force. To live without passion is to live half-dead, even if one is medically “well.”

The lesson for us is clear: cherish your passion. Do not allow the cold hands of convention, fear, or cynicism to smother it. Respect the counsel of doctors and the wisdom of reason, but guard the flame within you, for it is uniquely yours. Know, too, that you cannot demand passion where it does not exist—it cannot be manufactured by willpower or imposed by others. It must be discovered, nurtured, and lived with reverence.

And so, let your actions follow. Seek out what stirs your soul, whether in art, in love, in learning, or in service. Protect it against those who would call it madness, folly, or waste. When necessary, temper it with wisdom, but never let it be extinguished. For passion is the spark of greatness, and once destroyed, it may never return.

Thus remember the wisdom of Peter Shaffer: “Passion… can be destroyed by a doctor. It cannot be created.” The fire of the heart is fragile and rare. Honor it. Guard it. Live by it. For in the end, it is passion that transforms mere existence into life, and life into something eternal.