One touches and, in the act of touching, one's touched. - Aldous Huxley

Did you ever feel, as though you had something inside you that was only waiting for you to give it a chance to come out? Some sort of extra power that you aren't using — you know, like all the water that goes down the falls instead of through the turbines?

In the days before machinery men and women who wanted to amuse themselves were compelled, in their humble way, to be artists. Now they sit still and permit professionals to entertain them by the aid of machinery. It is difficult to believe that general artistic culture can flourish in this atmosphere of passivity.

I want to know what passion is. I want to feel something strongly.