distinguishes that summit above the earthly line, is that it is unhandselled, awful,
grand. It can never become familiar; you are lost the moment you set foot there.
You know the path, but wander, thrilled, over the bare and pathless rock, as if it
were solidified air and cloud. That rocky, misty summit, secreted in the clouds, was
far more thrillingly awful and sublime than the crater of a volcano spouting fire.
Henry David Thoreau