I am currently reading/listening to The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. I am not even finished with the book; still, I was forced to come to my computer and do my very best to express my surprise at the stirring of emotion that I felt during the scene in the book where Kvothe is trying to earn the pipes, singing and playing his lute. I will not lie. That emotion was sadness mixed with awe at the feeling of beauty that riveted my soul. This scene seemed to express my own emotion when it comes to music, the philosophy of passion, and the telling of stories that ring true to the deepest part of my being. I have a love for moments. Moments are not singularly layered. The moment that took place through Kvothe's voice brought tears to my eyes. I am not ashamed to say it, not in the least. If I had no ties to the world, I would be happy to be a traveling moment-man, walking from town to town and city to city, searching for the moments that make my heart bleed and soul tear, my eyes sing and my voice glisten. These moments can be found in any place at any time, can happen to any person of great standing or lowly birth. I have found them in books, in moving frames, in hidden glances, and bow to string. It is the moment that no explanation of emotion can portray. It can only be felt from your heart, and your heart has to be invested, the fingers of your heart laced around the focus of your moment.
But ... I digress. As I have already said, The moment cannot be expressed in words to the fullest extent. It can only be experienced, even if only in the mind.