We feel cold, but we don’t mind it, because we will not come to harm. And if we wrapped up against the cold, we wouldn’t feel other things, like the bright tingle of the stars, or the music of the Aurora, or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin. It’s worth being cold for that.

The speaker contrasts physical discomfort with the heightened perception that comes from exposure and vulnerability. Cold becomes a small price for a richer, more immediate communion with the world: stars that “tingle,” aurora that has “music,” and moonlight that feels “silky” on skin. The passage suggests that insulating ourselves against pain can also dull wonder, sensation, and awe. It frames risk and discomfort not as harms to be avoided at all costs, but as conditions that can make beauty more vivid—an ethic of openness to experience, and a refusal to let fear of hardship narrow life’s possibilities.