“Now, flung at me like frolic or insolence, there came as if it were a voice --no words-- but if you made it into words it would be, 'Why should your heart not dance?' It's the measure of my folly that my heart almost answered, Why not?' I had to tell myself over like a lesson the infinite reasons it had not to dance. (...) And yet, it was a lesson I could hardly keep in my mind. The sight of the huge world put mad ideas into me, as if I could wander away, wander forever, see strange and beautiful things, one after the other to the world's end. The freshness and wetness all about me (...) made me feel that I had misjudged the world; it seemed kind, and laughing, as if its heart also danced.”
Book:Till We Have Faces