Snapshot of a Writer’s Journal

May 8, 2026

Writer: Claudia Hurst

Editor: Emma Minock

The summer after my freshman year of college, I attended a book talk where an author advised aspiring storytellers to continuously write down quotes that resonate with them. He explained that these scribbles often become morsels of inspiration from which stories can eventually grow. For the past three years, I have followed this advice, collecting small inspirations from the world around me in my “Writer’s Journal.” This journal serves as a portal, allowing me to peer back at past versions of myself through handwritten quotes from books, movies, songs, and random conversations that resonated with me during specific moments in my life. Reading back through brings back the challenges or crossroads I was navigating at the time—a reminder that the wisdom that resonates with us is often a reflection of the particular moment we are trying to make sense of.

During my sophomore year, my journal was filled with reflections on friendship. I remember that time in my life as a moment when I felt grateful to have so many new people to meet and grow close to. For the first time, the idea that we have not yet met all of the people we will love resonated with me. I felt empowered, recognizing how big the world around me felt, full of possibilities and opportunities for connection. I scribbled down quotes with this sentiment in mind: “‘There is something likable in everyone,’ and to my great surprise, I found that she was right. It’s impossible to get to know people deeply and not come to like them” (Lori Gottlieb, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone).

My junior year brought my first experiences of longing and vulnerability. I tried to make sense of these unfamiliar feelings through the words of Emily Henry, beginning to understand that “so much of love is loving who you are with somebody,” while also realizing how unfamiliar I still was with who I am as part of a pair. Mel Robbins’s advice to the young and inexperienced also echoed deeply within me: “You have to ask for what you need. When you ask for what you want, you will feel more in control. Whether you get what you want or not.”

As I find myself at the culmination of my senior year, preparing to close out my time in this place, the quotes in my “Writer’s Journal” again seem to reflect the complexity of the moment I am experiencing. A message from a call I shared with my grandmother in the fall has found its way back to the forefront of my mind: “Change is good. We find what we want, we experience it, and eventually we plateau and want something else,” and this plateau ultimately leads us toward our next adventure.

For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a student. I feel fulfilled in the certainty that as a student, I will continue to grow as I learn. However, as my nearly 20 years as a consumer of knowledge come to an end, I have become increasingly aware that opportunities to grow and feel inspired by uncovered wisdom are constantly around us, if we are looking for them.

Perhaps that is the essence of graduating and becoming a real person—the recognition that we are now the catalysts of our own journeys. We are no longer following the step ladder placed in front of us; rather, it is our responsibility to look up and decide our next step forward as individuals. There is fear in the freedom of choice and to go our own way, an apprehension that we will not choose correctly without another force telling us where to go. 
I cannot say with certainty where my future steps will lead, but I feel confident that if I continue to reflect on the endless inspiration around me, my strides will align with where I need them to be, constantly “exploring [my own] infinite abyss” (Andrew Largeman; Garden State).