Santayana’s joy

"It was Spring. The warm sunshine and soft breezes were trying to lure students away from their classes. Santayana was seated at his desk reading to his students. His listeners were sitting, or reclining, in various attitudes of inattention. Santayana's voice trailed off, his eyes traveled over his students, and fixed themselves on a tree which grew outside the window. Its leaves were small and tender, and of the green green of new leaves. Santayana closed the book. A short silence elapsed. He rose, and said: "Gentlemen, it is Spring!" He took his hat and never returned.

I hope this story is true. I hope he went away, got on his one track, and has been going along happily ever since. He is (I imagine) in his restlessness seeking something, something which will explain beauty and perfection. He derives his joy (I imagine) from the ceaseless activity which goes with the quest."

— On the Meaning of Life by Will Durant
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