On occasions, after drinking a pint of beer at luncheon, there would be a flow into my mind with sudden and unaccountable emotion, sometimes a line or two of verse, sometimes a whole stanza, accompanied, not preceded by a vague notion of the poem which they were destined to form a part of.... I say bubble up because, so far as I could make out, the source of the suggestions thus proffered to the brain was the pit of the stomach.
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But these things, you stick with them, work with them, and they bubble up again, eventually,
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Dig within. Within is the wellspring of Good; and it is always ready to bubble up, if you just dig.
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