I feel full of the mystery of life at the moment.
(Odd how things sometimes seem tinkling and empty and then full, full.)
An overwhelming sensation that almost makes me speechless.

Iris Murdoch, from a letter to Wallace Robson written c. December 1951 (via violentwavesofemotion)

That’s the word I’ve been looking for- inspired. This is the first time I’ve felt inspired in so long. I’ve been chasing whatever will spark it for as long as I can remember and hardly I am successful. It makes sense. I’ve always felt like I had to be inspired first to act, but the reality seems to be that it is in the living which I will then find inspiration in