"A child is.
In contemplating a stain on the wall, an insect in the grass or the miracle of a rose, the child is not only gazing. The child is being everything on which he is concentrating. He is the beetle, the figure on the wall, he is flower, wind and silence.

In the same way he is the coldness or the anguish of adults, superficiality or their genuine love.

Sometimes he must be left in peace, without demanding that he be always on the go, running, talking, playing, as if contemplation was a disease.

The child immersed in his surroundings is taking part in a process greater than himself, in which he blossoms unconsciously. But he has something more precious than consciousness: intuition about everything, an innocent wisdom."

- Lya Luft, Losses & Gains