Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time. Sir John Lubbock
We are becoming like cats, slyly parasitic, enjoying an indifferent domesticity. Nice and snug in “the social,” our historic passions have withdrawn into the glow of an artificial cosiness, and our half-closed eyes now seek little other than the peaceful parade of television pictures.