I am never without my lyric book. If anything inspirational

In the words of Gabrielle Aplin, the singer and poet whose voice carries both lightness and longing, we find a truth as ancient as creativity itself: “I am never without my lyric book. If anything inspirational happens, I have it there so nothing’s forgotten.” Though these words seem simple, they reveal the discipline of the artist, the humility of the observer, and the sacred reverence for the fleeting spark of inspiration. For ideas, like divine messengers, visit without warning — and only those prepared to receive them can give them life.

When Aplin speaks of her lyric book, she speaks of something far greater than paper and ink. It is her vessel of remembrance, her temple of creation. To her, the inspirational moment is a fragile thing — a whisper, a shimmer, a sudden revelation that could vanish as swiftly as it appeared. The ancients knew this truth well. The Greek poets called such a moment a gift from the Muse, a goddess of inspiration who would touch the mind for only an instant. If the poet was not ready, if he did not seize the gift, it would return to the heavens and be lost forever. So it is with Gabrielle’s lyric book: it is her way of catching the wind, of giving permanence to what is otherwise ephemeral.

To carry a book for one’s thoughts is an act of devotion. It is the mark of one who lives awake, whose eyes are open to the signs and symbols hidden in the ordinary. The inspirational does not always come in grand visions — it may arise in a stranger’s smile, in the rhythm of rain upon glass, or in the quiet ache of memory. The true artist, like Aplin, does not wait for inspiration to come fully formed; she prepares herself to notice it. Her lyric book becomes her companion, her confidant, her mirror — the place where the chaos of the world is transformed into the order of song.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci, who carried his small notebooks wherever he went. Within them, he sketched the flight of birds, the fall of water, the curve of a smile. He once wrote that “the smallest thought, if not written, will be lost as quickly as it came.” Those notebooks, filled with fragments of genius, later became the foundation of his legacy — proof that greatness is not one moment of brilliance, but the accumulation of many captured sparks. So too does Gabrielle Aplin follow this lineage of the watchful creator — one who understands that discipline is the guardian of inspiration.

There is also wisdom in her awareness that memory, though powerful, is fickle. The human mind is like the tide — it receives and releases, forgetting even the treasures it once held. To write is to defy that forgetfulness, to bind the moment to eternity. Every artist, every thinker, must learn this truth: that inspiration is a visitor, not a resident, and must be welcomed before it departs. The act of writing, then, is not merely recording; it is honoring. It is saying to the universe, “I was listening.”

Yet Aplin’s practice holds meaning beyond art. Her lyric book is a metaphor for the soul’s readiness in all walks of life. Each of us is visited by insights, by moments of clarity and beauty, yet too often we let them slip away in the noise of the day. The wise person, like the artist, must learn to capture them — to write them down, to reflect upon them, to build upon them. Whether through a journal, a prayer, or a simple act of mindfulness, we too can preserve the sacred fragments of our days.

So, dear listener, let Gabrielle Aplin’s words become your guide. Carry your own “lyric book” — whether it be a notebook, a heart attuned to meaning, or a willingness to pause and reflect. When something inspirational happens, do not trust memory alone to hold it; give it form, give it voice. For the greatest wisdoms often come softly, and those who are ready will keep them alive. Let no insight go to waste, no moment of wonder pass unseen. For it is from these gathered fragments — these lines, these thoughts, these fleeting glimpses of truth — that the song of your own life will one day be written.