Why?

It is more than a love. Not just because one loves to, but because those ideas , those unborn thoughts and undone deeds tie a knot in the gut, wrenching the stomach into a depression that eats away at the person, slowly killing him until he gets it out, finally fulfilling his satisfaction until the next time. He does this not for the love, but for sanity, to keep these urges from driving him crazy. He does it to keep his own creation from gnawing away at him from the inside, to keep himself normal.