I've been rereading Joyce's "A portrait of the artist as a young man" recently and have been thoroughly enjoying it. One paragraph at the end of chapter three seemed particularly applicable to my photography of the everyday:
"He sat by the fire in the kitchen, not daring to speak for happiness. Till that moment he had not known how beautiful and peaceful life could be. The green square of paper pinned round the lamp cast down a tender shade. On the dresser was a plate of sausages and white pudding and on the shelf there were eggs."
To me this expresses how the ordinary becomes beautiful when you are euphoric. Something I try to evoke in my photographs.