“Oh! how good to be your age,” Anna went on. “I remember and know that blue mist, the same as in the mountains in Switzerland. The mist that envelops everything during the blissful time when childhood is just coming to an end, and the path away from that vast, cheerful and happy circle grows narrower and narrower, and you feel cheerful and eerie entering that suite of rooms, though it seems bright and beautiful…. Who hasn’t gone through that?”
–Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina, tr. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volonkhosky