I am in the middle of reading Atlas Shrugged and found the perfect paragraph to express it, which I just had to share.
Page 351, Hank Rearden...
"Somewhere within him, he knew the thought she would not name, but he only knew it in that prenatal shape which has to find its words in the future. "
...that prenatal shape which has to find its word in the future.
Appropriately this is one of the truths in life that I had not yet found the right words for. In the last year or so, I have made a conscious effort to stop and try to mentally verbalize thoughts before trying to speak them, for the sake of having lost too many. Maybe I am a wierdo (maybe?!).