Just a bit of seaweed

I've been quoting a few authors on the joys of reading, so to equal things out here's one on the dubious joys of writing:

The very glory of what he wanted to say seemed to get in the way of his saying it. Try as he might, he could not write down what he knew. He was like a man trying to catch the moonlight on the water with a fishing-net. When he pulled the net into the boat there was nothing in it except two repulsive jelly-fish and a bit of seaweed.

Elizabeth Goudge
from The Rosemary Tree