http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/books/2015/08/frank_wilczek_s_a_beautiful_question_reviewed.html

When does it first strike you, this feeling? When you’re a kid, seeing the ocean weave through trees from the back seat of your parents’ car? In high school, perched on warm bleachers and watching the sun flare bright against the tubas in the marching band? Or perhaps you’re swimming in a backyard pool, squinting up at the black tarp of night above, and the feeling seeps into your ears along with the water. Later in life, it finds you in smaller moments. When you’re spreading magazines in a neat spiral on a coffee table, or curling your fingers around the pleasantly rounded edges of a cellphone. Sometimes those big, chest-swelling moments come back: You’re camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains, or driving to the dentist’s office in slopping rain, or sitting on the shore with your toes in hot, wet sand—and it’s there once more.