The passage is adapted from a novel. The narrator is a young woman named Augusta who is reflecting on her relationship with her scholarly father.

My father was a man of books. He lived in a world of ink and paper, of leather-bound spines and the crisp rustle of turning pages. To him, the outside world was a distraction, a noisy, chaotic place that threatened the serene order of his study. He spoke in quotations, his conversation a mosaic of other men's wisdom. I, on the other hand, longed for the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. I craved experience, not just the description of it.