This morning, I felt like divorcing myself from the world, on this grey, drizzly, January day, when hope and happiness seemed so far away.

So I went for a run. It was cold; the wind was in my face enough to pull a tear from my eye, and my legs were sore. But slowly, by dint of simply putting one foot in front of the other, then repeating the process dozens, hundreds, thousands of times, my body and soul found a rhythm that was my own and no one else's, and within that, a blessed peace.

“What can I do with my happiness? How can I keep it, conceal it, bury it where I may never lose it? I want to kneel as it falls over me like rain, gather it up with lace and silk, and press it over myself again.” 

Anaïs Nin, Henry & June