Why should I leave this green-floored cell,
Roofed with blue air in which we dwell,
Unless outside its guarded gates,
Long, long desired, the Unearthly waits
Strangeness that moves us more than fear,
Beauty that stabs with tingling spear,
Or Wonder, laying on one's heart
That finger-tip at which we start
As if some thought too swift and shy
For reason's grasp had just gone by? C.S. Lewis
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