Do you ever look back over the years and remember moods rather than details? A warmth like a hug as you watched light fall on the hands of someone you loved? A stirring of the heart as someone smiled slow and wordless at you across a room? What room - it does not matter. What day - you don't care.
Would you say that the taste of tea is not as lovely as the experience of it?
Do you love certain flowers, like roses or gypsophila, because of the sensation they inspire - the softness, the ease of the mind, the swell of beautiful happiness or romance - and you wouldn't necessarily want to have them in glossily packaged bunches in your house, becaue that would spoil the tenderness somehow?
Do you ever read a book just for its words?
Do you ever feel that memorising a beloved poem is somehow taking away a little of its magic?
Are you sad when people are unkind because it means there is unkindness in the world?
Do certain phrases ... tea and roses ... seem lovely all on their own, without any context?
And do you realise sometimes, even for just a moment, that your life is not about what you've done, but what you've felt?