One of the deepest and strangest of all human moods is the mood which will suddenly strike us perhaps in a garden at night, or deep in sloping meadows, the feeling that every flower and leaf has just uttered something stupendously direct and important, and that we have by a prodigy of imbecility not heard or understood it. There is a certain poetic value, and that a genuine one, in this sense of having missed the full meaning of things. There is beauty, not only in wisdom, but in this dazed and dramatic ignorance.
from Chesterton's Robert Browning (1903)
This little paragraph captures so much so well. This sensation is, I suppose, what I hope to put across in my art, which means translating the mystery and subtlety of everyday experience into paint, which is really hard.