I walked into the dreadfully humid clamor that was the university quad at seven o’clock on a Tuesday night. To my right, a society of high-spirited students conversed loudly in their own cliques, each in a strident tone that suggested they were clearing up, once and for all, a highly controversial dispute. As I stepped toward a company of my friends, I paused, observing the intense beauty of Princeton for a moment; it was an incredible sight with the classical Gothic arches bordering the quad, a bell tower rising from the western corner, and two trees standing like titans over the chatter of the residents of the surrounding dorms. The giddy atmosphere of socialization engulfed me, and within moments, I felt a part of society.

     Even so, I stood deliberately toward the outer fringes of conversation range: not close enough to be totally intimate, but not far enough to be a stranger peering in at the world of my friends. I felt “within and without."

     The clamor of society masked the warning rumbles of thunder, but the flashes of lighting that caught the eyes of the attentive, warned of the eminent storm. The rain that followed was nothing short of abrupt. It suddenly crashed down upon the knots of talking students, dampening their enthusiasm for conversation and disbanding any sort of assembly. From the stone-arched safety of my dorm entrance, I once again gazed back at the beautiful architecture of the campus.

     My hand was not quite on the door when a uniquely musical voice called out above the hissing of the rain. Turning, I saw my classmate, a girl named Celine, walking up to me from behind. She smiled sweetly and asked me to walk in the rain with her. She was barefoot and soaked from the downpour, but her smile, gleaming through her wet hair, caught my attention. It wasn’t a wide humorous smile or a sly, suggestive grin, but rather a smile that suggested something warmly platonic: something so intimate that it promised to be singularly unique.

     Enchanted by that smile, I joined her and walked in the heavy rain.  As we conversed, both silently and verbally, I was increasingly possessed by a unique feeling of satisfaction, because for the first time since childhood, I walked simply for the sake of walking.

     This girl, Celine, helped me realize that life is not a journey from point A to point B; it is winding paths, panoramic views, and the quiet solitude of beauty – that life can exist simply for its own sake. In many ways, she was Clarisse Mcclellan from Fahrenheit 451, teaching me that although my destination was a worthy aspiration, the detours of the journey would always be better.

     In an ironic twist, I was met with a watershed moment under the downpour of heavy rain. Celine’s company taught me to live for all of life’s novelties, and not for its utilities. In the immortal sentiment of Robin Williams, “Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." There are things in this world that cannot be gauged by utility, but only by their own personal beauty.