We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. That is why we have peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses and nymphs and elves—that, though we cannot, yet these projections can enjoy in themselves that beauty, grace, and power of which Nature is the image. That is why the poets tell us such lovely falsehoods. They talk as if the west wind could really sweep into a human soul; but it can’t. They tell us that ‘beauty born of murmuring sound’ will pass into a human face; but it won’t. Or not yet. —C. S. Lewis

Distractions . . . leaving your mind in neutral. Neutral becomes a habit until you are as passive as a stuffed bear.—Shirley Rousseau Murphy

So what if I leave awesome but oddly random comments. I'm 12 years old, what do you want?