From Christopher Alexander's The Timeless Way of Building:
We have a habit of thinking that the deepest insights, the most mystical, and spiritual insights, are somehow less ordinary than most things- that they are extraordinary.
This is only the shallow refuge of the person who does not yet know what he is doing.
In fact, the opposite is true: the most mystical, most religious, most wonderful- these are not less ordinary than most things- they are more ordinary than most things.
It is because they are so ordinary, indeed, that they strike to the core.
From Keith Johnstone's Impro:
Many students block their imaginations because they're afraid of being unoriginal They believe they know exactly what originality is, just as critics are always sure they can recognise things that are avant-garde. 
We have a concept of originality based on things that already exist. I'm told that avant-garde theatre groups in Japan are just like those in the West- well of course, or how would we know what they were? Anyone can run an avant-garde theatre group; you just get the actors to lie naked in heaps or outstare the audience, or move in extreme slow motion or whatever the fashion is. But the real avant-garde aren't imitating what other people are doing, or what they did forty years ago; they're solving the problems that need solving, like how to get a popular theatre with some worth-while content, and they may not look avant-garde at all! 
The improviser has to realise that the more obvious he is, the more original he appears. I constantly point out how much the audience like someone who is direct, and how they always laugh with pleasure at a really 'obvious; idea. Ordinary people asked to improvise will search for some 'original' idea because they want to be thought clever... Ask people to give you an original idea and see the chaos it throws them into. If they said the first thing that came into their head, there'd be no problem.
From T.S. Eliot's Little Gidding:

What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from. And every phrase
And sentence that is right (where every word is at home,
Taking its place to support the others,
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
An easy commerce of the old and the new,
The common word exact without vulgarity,
The formal word precise but not pedantic,
The complete consort dancing together)
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now and England.

With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this
     Calling


We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.