"When I left shul this evening, I walked over to the park. The heavy summer air was filled with fireflies, hundreds of them, burning and vanishing, burning and vanishing. The park was a field of floating, passing intensities. I sat for a while and watched the little eruptions of brilliance. Wherever I looked, there was the beginning and the ending of light. No light lasted long, but there was not a moment of total darkness. This, I thought, is another ideal of illumination."