I recently came across this excerpt:
I demand excellence from my co-workersif there's some valid program out there that you couldn't ever write, then you're not justified in calling yourself a programmer
When you write a compiler, you lose your innocence. It's fun to be a shaman, knowing that typing the right conjuration will invoke the gods of the machine and produce what you hope is the right computation. Writing a compiler slays the deities, after which you can no longer work true magic. But what you lose in excitement, you gain in power: power over languages and over language-related tools. You'll be able to master new languages rapidly and fearlessly. You may lose your blind faith, but you gain insight into the hauntingly beautiful machinery of your programs. For many, it deepens their real faith. Regardless, it lets them sit at the table with their peers as equals.
From here