“It was when I was happiest that I longed most. It was on happy days when we were up there on the hills . . . with the wind and the sunshine . . . Do you remember? The colour and the smell . . . And because it was so beautiful, it set me longing, always longing. Somewhere else there must be more of it.” (Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold, by C.S. Lewis)
…it set me longing, always longing. Somewhere else there must be more of it.