I have read somewhere that Angels speak to a man in solitude. Did they mean the voice from within that you have to listen to when you are all alone ( for the simple reason that there is nobody else around and you'll go crazy if you dont talk! ).

Jokes apart, this loneliness is a timeless companion, seeking to speak to you at the raring moments of your life, moments when all that matters are a couple of words, soothing, appeasing and molllifying, moments when the joy you behold is beyond what you can express, describe and share, moments when the wise man in you plays the objective critic while surveying the vicissitudes in life, moments of revelations when miracles and magical flashes seem mundane, moments when you are forced to acquiesce and accept passively what is ordained upon you, moments when you are possessed with the courage and strength of a thousand elephants, moments when your heart is filled with gratitude and the lips part to mutter the hymn "Now thank we all our Gods with hearts and hands and voices.."..

What does this voice in all its benevolence say ? When is this voice crystal clear and when is it slurred ? And how many times to do we really listen to this voice when we hear it clear ? Do we strain our ears to hear it clear when its not ?

Inspiration. This is one subject thats set me thinking about it so much. No, no. Am are not talking about music composers who create their works (Ctrl-C, Ctrl-V) inspired by fellow composers. And no, am not talking about the 99% perspiration stuff either. I am just trying to unveil the emotion behind this noun. I am just trying to understand how one human can influence another, how nature can spur man to explore, discover, innovate and invent, how unseen forces can spark human beings to scale otherwise unthinkable heights. Simple words are inspirational too.
Now if someone were to ask me what induced me to start a blog of my own, I would say its because of a couple of FM DJs, a few fellow bloggers and the English language (can't resist myself from deviating from a serious topic).

Longfellow's words still ring in my ears inspiringly -

Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime.
And, departing, leave behind us,
Footprints on the sands of time.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal.
Dust, thou art to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.