« Kolya’s life was what it was. Because children grow up, we think a child’s purpose is to grow up. But a child’s purpose is to be a child. Nature doesn’t disdain what lives only for a day. It pours the whole of itself into each moment. We don’t value the lily less for not being made of flint and built to last. Life’s bounty is in it’s flow, later is too late. Where is the song when it’s been sung? The dance when it’s been danced? »
Tom Stoppard, The Coast of Utopia: Shipwreck