A friend told me recently about a man she'd sat next to on a train, a twenty-five-year-old stock broker who had majored in business at the insistence of his parents. He was unhappy, recently divorced, and hated, hated his job. He openly wished he worked in a more creative field, one in which he could fulfill his desire to 'make something'.
That man's elusive something is what Gaiman's speech encompassed. It's a great motivator if you need one, and it makes me feel thankful that I'm a writer. It's not too late for that young guy to follow his passion. It's never too late to 'make good art.'