Some readers (in the broad sense of the word) find from time to time in certain works of art the expression of thoughts we failed to externalize ourselves. This is one of the functions of art, although not the only one nor the most important. Channels, by Graham Annable, made me think of this.
Being sad is like riding a bicycle: once you learn how to, you can continue throughout life, no matter how much time you spend without doing it. Being happy is like playing the piano: no matter how much you practice, any neglect may may damage your technique. Feel free to reverse the metaphor and make it optimistic. Pain may just be like playing the piano and pleasure like cycling. Aphorisms have that: they can claim anything in any circumstance sounding equally true and being equally useless. Two things, however, remain indisputable: I never learned to ride a bike nor I know how to play the piano.