CHAPTERI
　　THEstoryofmyheartcommencesseventeenyearsago。IntheglowofyouththereweretimeseverynowandthenwhenIfeltthenecessityofastronginspirationofsoulthought。Myheartwasdusty，parchedforwantoftherainofdeepfeeling；mymindaridanddry，forthereisadustwhichsettlesontheheartaswellasthatwhichfallsonaledge。Itisinjurioustothemindaswellastothebodytobealwaysinoneplaceandalwayssurroundedbythesamecircumstances。Aspeciesofthickclothingslowlygrowsaboutthemind，theporesarechoked，littlehabitsbecomeapartofexistence，andbydegreesthemindisinclosedinahusk。
　　WhenthisbegantoformIfelteagertoescapefromit，tothrowofftheheavyclothing，todrinkdeeplyoncemoreatthefreshfountationsoflife。
　　Aninspiration——alongdeepbreathofthepureairofthought——couldalonegivehealthtotheheart。
　　ThereisahilltowhichIusedtoresortatsuchperiods。Thelabourofwalkingthreemilestoit，allthewhilegraduallyascending，seemedtoclearmybloodoftheheavinessaccumulatedathome。Onawarmsummerdaytheslowcontinuedriserequiredcontinualeffort，whichcariedawaythesenseofoppression。Thefamiliareverydayscenewassoonoutofsight；I
　　cametoothertrees，meadows，andfields；Ibegantobreatheanewairandtohaveafresheraspirationn。Irestrainedmysoultillreachedtheswardofthehill；psyche，thesoulthatlongedtobeloose。Iwouldwritepsychealwaysinsteadofsoultoavoidmeaningswhichhavebecomeattachedtothewordsoul，butitisawkwardtodoso。
　　Clumsyinddeedareallwordsthemomentthewoodenstageofcommonplacelifeisleft。Irestrainedpsyche，mysoul，tillIreachedandputmyfootonthegrassatthebeginningofthegreenhillitself。Movingupthesweetshortturf，ateverystepmyheartseemedtoobtainawiderhorizonoffeeling；witheveryinhalationofrichpureair，adeeperdesire。Theverylightofthesunwaswhiterandmorebrillianthere。BythetimeIhadreachedthesummitIhadentirelyforgottenthepettycircumstancesandtheannoyancesofexistence。Ifeltmyself，myself。Therewasanintrenchmentonthesummit，andgoingdownintothefosseIwalkedrounditslowlytorecoverbreath。Onthesouth—westernsidetherewasaspotwheretheouterbankhadpartiallyslipped，leavingagap。Theretheviewwasoverabroadplain，beautifulwithwheat，andinclosedbyaperfectamphitheatreofgreenhills。
　　Throughthesehillstherewasonenarrowgroove，orpass，southwards，wherethewhitecloudsseemedtocloseinthehorizon。Woodshidthescatteredhamletsandfarmhouses，sothatIwasquitealone。Iwasutterlyalonewiththesunandtheearth。
　　Lyingdownonthegrass，Ispokeinmysoultotheearth，thesun，theair，andthedistantseafarbeyondsight。Ithoughtoftheearth’sfirmness——I
　　feltitbearmeup：throughthegrassycouchtherecameaninfluenceasifI
　　couldfeelthegreatearthspeakingtome。Ithoughtofthewanderingair——itspureness，whichisitsbeauty；theairtouchedmeandgavemesomethingofitself。Ispoketothesea：thoughsofar，inmymindIsawit，greenattherimoftheearthandblueindeeperocean；Idesiredtohaveitsstrength，itsmysteryandglory。ThenIaddressedthesun，desiringthesoulequivalentofhislightandbrilliance，hisenduranceandunweariedrace。Iturnedtotheblueheavenover，gazingintoitsdepth，inhalingitsexquisitecolourandsweetness。Therichblueoftheunattainablefloweroftheskydrewmysoultowardsit，andthereitrested，Iforpurecolourisrestofheart。ByalltheseIprayed；Ifeltanemotionofthesoulbeyondalldefinition；prayerisapunythingtoit，andthewordisarudesigntothefeeling，butI
　　knownoother。Bytheblueheaven，bytherollingsunburstingthroughuntroddenspace，anewoceanofethereverydayunveiled。Bythefreshandwanderingairencompassingtheworld；bytheseasoundingontheshore——thegreenseawhite—fleckedatthemarginandthedeepocean；bythestrongearthunderme。Then，returning，Iprayedbythesweetthyme，whoselittleflowersItouchedwithmyhand；bytheslendergrass；bythecrumbleofdrychalkyearthItookupandletfallthroughmyfingers。Touchingthecrumbleofearth，thebladeofgrass，thethymeflower，breathingtheearth—encirclingair，thinkingoftheseaandthesky，holdingoutmyhandforthesunbeamstotouchit，proneontheswardintokenofdeepreverence，thusIprayedthatImighttouchtotheunutterableexistenceinfinitelyhigherthandeity。
　　Withalltheintensityoffeelingwhichexaltedme，alltheintensecommunionIheldwiththeearth，thesunandsky，thestarshiddenbythelight，withtheocean——innomannercanthethrillingdepthofthesefeelingsbewritten——withtheseIprayed，asiftheywerethekeysofaninstrument，ofanorgan，withwhichIswelledforththenoteofmysoul，redoublingmyownvoicebytheirpower。Thegreatsunburningwithlight；
　　thestrongearth，dearearth；thewarmsky；thepureair；thethoughtofocean；theinexpressiblebeautyofallfilledmewitharapture，anecstasy，andinflatus。Withthisinflatus，too，I
　　prayed。NexttomyselfIcameandrecalledmyself，mybodilyexistence。I
　　heldoutmyhand，thesunlightgleamedontheskinandtheiridescentnails；Irecalledthemysteryandbeautyoftheflesh。IthoughtofthemindwithwhichIcouldseetheoceansixtymilesdistant，andgathertomyselfitsglory。Ithoughtofmyinnerexistence，thatconsciousnesswhichiscalledthesoul。These，thatis，myself——Ithrewintothebalancetoweighttheprayertheheavier。Mystrengthofbody，mindandsoul，Iflungintoit；Ibutforthmystrength；I
　　wrestledandlaboured，andtoiledinmightofprayer。Theprayer，thissoul—emotionwasinitself—notforanobject—itwasapassion。Ihidmyfaceinthegrass，Iwaswhollyprostrated，Ilostmyselfinthewrestle，I
　　wasraptandcarriedaway。
　　Becomingcalmer，Ireturnedtomyselfandthought，reclininginraptthought，fullofaspiration，steepedtothelipsofmysoulindesire。I
　　didnotthendefine，oranalyses，orunderstandthis。IseenowthatwhatI
　　labouredforwassoul—life，moresoul—nature，tobeexalted，tobefullofsoul—learning。FinallyIrose，walkedhalfamileorsoalongthesummitofthehilleastwards，tosoothemyselfandcometothecommonwaysoflifeagain。Hadanyshepherdaccidentallyseenmelyingontheturf，hewouldonlyhavethoughtthatIwasrestingafewminutes；Imadenooutwardshow。
　　WhocouldhaveimaginedthewhirlwindofpassionthatwasgoingonwithinmeasIreclinedthere!IwasgreatlyexhaustedwhenIreachedhome。
　　OccasionallyIwentuponthehilldeliberately，deemingitgoodtodoso；
　　then，again，thiscravingcarriedmeawayupthereofitself。Thoughtheprincipalfeelingwasthesame，therewerevariationsinthemodeinwhichitaffectedme。
　　SometimesonlyingdownontheswardIfirstlookedupatthesky，gazingforalongtimetillIcouldseedeepintotheazureandmyeyeswerefullofthecolour；thenIturnedmyfacetothegrassandthyme，placingmyhandsateachsideofmyfacesoastoshutouteverythingandhidemyself。Havingdrunkdeeplyoftheheavenaboveandfeltthemostgloriousbeautyoftheday，andrememberingtheold，old，sea，which（asitseemedtome）wasbutjustyonderattheedge，Inowbecamelost，andabsorbedintothebeingorexistenceoftheuniverse。Ifeltdowndeepintotheearthunder，andhighaboveintothesky，andfartherstilltothesunandstars。Stillfartherbeyondthestarsintothehollowofspace，andlosingthusmyseparatenessofbeingcametoseemlikeapartofthewhole。ThenIwhisper—edtotheearthbeneath，throughthegrassandthyme，downintothedepthofitsear，andagainuptothestarryspacehidbehindtheblueofday。Travellinginaninstantacrossthedistantsea，Isawasifwithactualvisionthepalmsandcocoanuttrees，thebamboosofIndia，andthecedarsoftheextremesouth。
　　Likealakewithislandstheoceanlaybeforeme，asclearandvividastheplainbeneathinthemidstoftheamphitheatreofhills。
　　Withthegloryofthegreatsea，Isaid，withthefirm，solid，andsustainingearth；thedepth，distance，andexpanseofether；
　　theage，tamelessness，andceaselessmotionoftheocean；thestars，andtheunknowninspace；byallthosethingswhicharemostpowerfulknowntome，andbythosewhichexist，butofwhichIhavenoideawhatever，Ipray。Further，bymyownsoul，thatsecretexistencewhichaboveallotherthingsbearsthenearestresemblancetotheidealofspirit，infinitelynearerthanearth，sun，orstar。Speakingbyaninclinationtowards，notinwords，mysoulpraysthatImayhavesomethingfromeachofthese，thatImaygatheraflowerfromthem，thatImayhaveinmyselfthesecretandmeaningoftheearth，thegoldensun，thelight，thefoam—fleckedsea。Letmysoulbecomeenlarged；Iamnotenough；Iamlittleandcontemptible。Idesireagreat—nessofsoul，anirradianceofmind，adeeperinsight，abroaderhope。Givemepowerofsoul，sothatImayactuallyeffectbyitswillthatwhichIstrivefor。
　　Inwinter，thoughIcouldnotthenrestonthegrass，orstaylongenoughtoformanydefiniteexpression，Istillwentuptothehilloncenowandthen，foritseemedthattomerelyvisitthespotrepeatedallthatIhadpreviouslysaid。Butitwasnotonlythen。
　　InsummerIwentoutintothefields，andletmysoulinspirethesethoughtsunderthetrees，standingagainstthetrunk，orlookingupthroughthebranchesatthesky。Iftreescouldspeak，hundredsofthemwouldsaythatIhadhadthesesoul—emotionsunderthem。Leaningagainsttheoak’smassivetrunk，andfeelingtheroughbarkandthelichenatmyback，lookingsouthwardsoverthegrassyfields，cowslip—yellow，atthewoodsontheslope，Ithoughtmydesireofdeepersoul—life。Orunderthegreenfirs，lookingupwards，theskywasmoredeeplyblueattheirtops；thenthebrakefernwasunroll—
　　ing，thedovescooing，thethicketsastir，thelateash—leavescomingforth。Undertheshapelyroundedelms，bythehawthornbushesandhazel，everywherethesamedeepdesireforthesoul—nature；tohavefromallgreenthingsandfromthesunlighttheinnermeaningwhichwasnotknowntothem，thatImightbefulloflightasthewoodsofthesun’srays。Justtotouchthelichenedbarkofatree，ortheendofasprayprojectingoverthepathasIwalked，seemedtorepeatthesameprayerinme。
　　Thelong—livedsummerdaysdriedandwarmedtheturfinthemeadows。Iusedtoliedowninsolitarycornersatfulllengthonmyback，soastofeeltheembraceoftheearth。Thegrassstoodhighaboveme，andtheshadowsofthetree—branchesdancedonmyface。Ilookedupatthesky，withhalfclosedeyestobearthedazzlinglight。Beesbuzzedoverme，sometimesabutterflypassed，therewasahumintheair，greenfinchessanginthehedge。Graduallyenteringintotheintenselifeofthesummerdays——alifewhichburnedaroundasifeverygrassbladeandleafwereatorch——Icametofeelthelongdrawnlifeoftheearthbackintothedimmestpast，whilethesunofthemomentwaswarmonme。Sesostrisonthemostancientsandsofthesouth，inancient，ancientdays，wasconsciousofhimselfandofthesun。Thissunlightlinkedmethroughtheagestothatpastconsciousness。Fromalltheagesmysouldesiredtotakethatsoul—lifewhichhadflowedthroughthemasthesunbeamshadcontinuallypouredonearth。Asthehotsandstakeuptheheat，sowouldItakeupthatsoul—energy。Dreamyinappearance，I
　　wasbreathingfullofexistence；Iwasawareofthegrassblades，theflowers，theleavesonhawthornandtree。Iseemedtolivemorelargelythroughthem，asifeachwereaporethroughwhichIdrank。
　　Thegrasshopperscalledandleaped，thegreenfinchessang，theblackbirdshappilyfluted，alltheairhummedwithlife。Iwasplungeddeepinexistence，andwithallthatexistenceIprayed。
　　Througheverygrassbladeinthethousand，thousandgrasses；
　　throughthemillionleaves，veinedandedge—cut，onbushandtree；throughthesong—notesandthemarkedfeathersofthebirds；throughtheinsects’humandthecolourofthebutterflies；throughthesoftwarmair，theflecksofcloudsdissolving——Iusedthemallforprayer。WithalltheenergythesunbeamshadpouredunweariedontheearthsinceSesostriswasconsciousofthemontheancientsands；withallthelifethathadbeenlivedbyvigorousmanandbeauteouswomansincefirstindearestGreecethedreamofthegodswaswoven；withallthesoul—lifethathadflowedalongstreamdowntome，IprayedthatImighthaveasoulmorethanequalto，farbeyondmyconceptionof，thesethingsofthepast，thepresent，andthefulnessofalllife。Notonlyequaltothese，butbeyond，higher，andmorepowerfulthanIcouldimagine。ThatImighttakefromalltheirenergy，grandeur，andbeauty，andgatheritintome。Thatmysoulmightbemorethanthecosmosoflife。
　　Iprayedwiththeglowingcloudsofsun—setandthesoftlightofthefirststarcomingthroughthevioletsky。Atnightwiththestars，accordingtotheseason：nowwiththePleiades，nowwiththeSwanorburningSirius，andbroadOrion’swholeconstellation，redAldebaran，Arcturus，andtheNorthernCrown；
　　withthemorningstar，thelightbringer，oncenowandthenwhenIsawit，awhite—goldballintheviolet—purplesky，orframedaboutwithpalesummervapourfloatingawayasredstreaksshothorizontallyintheeast。Adiffusedsaffronascendedintotheluminousupperazure。Thediskofthesunroseoverthehill，fluctuatingwiththrobsoflight；hischestheavedinfervourofbrilliance。Allthegloryofthesunrisefilledmewithbroaderandfurnace—likevehemenceofprayer。ThatImighthavethedeepestofsoul—life，thedeepestofall，deeperfarthanallthisgreatnessofthevisibleuniverseandevenoftheinvisible；thatImighthaveafulnessofsoultillnowunknown，andutterlybeyondmyownconception。
　　Inthedeepestdarknessofthenightthesamethoughtroseinmymindasinthebrightlightofnoontide。WhatistherewhichI
　　havenotusedtostrengthenthesameemotion？
　　CHAPTERII
　　SOMETIMESIwenttoadeep，narrowvalleyinthehills，silentandsolitary。
　　Theskycrossedfromsidetoside，likearoofsupportedontwowallsofgreen。Sparrowschirpedinthewheatatthevergeabove，theircallsfallinglikethetwitteringofswallowsfromtheair。Therewasnoothersound。Theshortgrasswasdriedgreyasitgrewbytheheat；thesunhungoverthenarrowvaleasifithadbeenputtherebyhand。Burning，burning，thesunglowedontheswardatthefootoftheslopewherethesethoughtsburnedintome。Howmany，manyyears，howmanycyclesofyears，howmanybundlesofcyclesofyears，hadthesungloweddownthusonthathollow？
　　Sinceitwasformedhowlong？Sinceitwaswornandshaped，groove—like，intheflanksofthehillsbymightyforceswhichhadebbed。Alonewiththesunwhichglowedontheworkwhenitwasdone，Isawbackthroughspacetotheoldtimeoftree—ferns，ofthelizardflyingthroughtheair，thelizard—dragonwallowinginseafoam，themountainouscreatures，twice—elephantine，feedingonland；allthecrookedsequenceoflife。Thedragon—flywhichpassedmetracedacontinuousdescentfromtheflymarkedonstoneinthosedays。Theimmensetimeliftedmelikeawaverollingunderaboat；mymindseemedtoraiseitselfastheswellofthecyclescame；itfeltstrongwiththepoweroftheages。WithallthattimeandpowerIprayed：thatImighthaveinmysoultheintellectualpartofit；theidea，thethought。Likeashuttlethemindshottoandfrothepastandthepresent，inaninstant。
　　Fulltothebrimofthewondrouspast，Ifeltthewondrouspresent。Fortheday——theverymomentIbreathed，thatsecondoftimetheninthevalley，wasasmarvellous，asgrand，asallthathadgonebefore。Now，thismomentwasthewonderandtheglory。Now，thismomentwasexceedinglywonder—
　　ful。Now，thismomentgivemeallthethought，alltheidea，alithesoulexpressedinthecosmosaroundme。Givemestillmore，fortheinterminableuniverse，pastandpresent，isbutearth；givemetheunknownsoul，whollyapartfromit，thesoulofwhichIknowonlythatwhenItouchtheground，whenthesunlighttouchesmyhand，itisnotthere。Thereforetheheartlooksintospacetobeawayfromearth。Withallthecycles，andthesunlightstreamingthroughthem，withallthatismeantbythepresent，Ithoughtinthedeepvaleandprayed。
　　TherewasasecludedspringtowhichIsometimeswenttodrinkthepurewater，liftingitinthehollowofmyhand。Drinkingthelucidwater，clearaslightitselfinsolution，Iabsorbedthebeautyandpurityofit。Idrankthethoughtoftheelement；Idesiredsoul—naturepureandlimpid。WhenIsawthesparklingdewonthegrass——arainbowbrokenintodrops——itcalledupthesamethought—prayer。Thestormywindwhosesuddentwistslaidthetreesonthegroundwokethesamefeeling；myheartshoutedwithit。ThesoftsummerairwhichenteredwhenI
　　openedmywindowinthemorningbreathedthesamesweetdesire。
　　Atnight，beforesleeping，Ialwayslookedoutattheshadowytrees，thehillsloomingindistinctlyinthedark，astarseenbetweenthedriftingclouds；prayerofsoul—lifealways。Ichosethehighestroom，bareandgaunt，becauseasIsatatworkIcouldlookoutandseemoreofthewideearth，moreofthedomeofthesky，andcouldthinkmydesirethroughthese。
　　Whenthecrescentofthenewmoonshone，alltheoldthoughtswererenewed。
　　AllthesucceedingincidentsoftheyearrepeatedmyprayerasInotedthem。Thefirstgreenleafonthehawthorn，thefirstspikeofmeadowgrass，thefirstsongofthenightingale，thegreenearofwheat。Ispokeitwiththeearofwheatasthesuntinteditgolden；withthewhiteningbarley；againwiththeredgoldspotsofautumnonthebeech，thebuffoakleaves，andthegossamerdew—weighted。
　　Allthelarksoverthegreencornsangitforme，allthedearswallows；thegreenleavesrustledit；thegreenbrookflagswavedit；theswallowstookitwiththemtorepeatitformeindistantlands。BytherunningbrookI
　　meditatedit；aflashofsunlighthereinthecurve，aflickeryonderontheripples，thebirdsbathinginthesandyshallow，therushoffallingwater。
　　Asthebrookranwindingthroughthemeadow，soonethoughtranwindingthroughmydays。
　　ThesciencesIstudiednevercheckeditforamoment；nordidthebooksofoldphilosophy。Thesunwasstrongerthanscience；
　　thehillsmorethanphilosophy。Twicecircumstancesgavemeabriefviewoftheseathenthepassionrosetumultuousasthewaves。Itwasverybittertometoleavethesea。
　　SometimesIspentthewholedaywalkingoverthehillssearchingforit；asifthelabourofwalkingwouldforceitfromtheground。Iremainedinthewoodsforhours，amongtheashspraysandtheflutteringofthering—dovesattheirnests，thescentofpineshereandthere，dreamingmyprayer。
　　Myworkwasmostuncongenialanduseless，buteventhensometimesagleamofsunlightonthewall，thebuzzofabeeatthewindow，wouldbringthethoughttome。Onlytomakememiserable，foritwasawasteofgoldentimewhiletherichsunlightstreamedonhillandplain。Therewasawrenchingofthemind，astrainingofthementalsinews；Iwasforcedtodothis，mymindwasyonder。Weariness，exhaustion，nerve—illnessoftenensued。Theinsultswhichareshoweredonpoverty，longstruggleoflabour，theheavypressureofcircumstances，theunhappiness，onlystayedtheexpressionofthefeeling。Itwasalwaysthere。OfteninthestreetsofLondon，astheredsunsetflamedoverthehouses，theoldthought，theoldprayer，came。
　　Notonlyingrassyfieldswithgreenleafandrunningbrookdidthisconstantdesirefindrenewal。Moredeeplystillwithlivinghumanbeauty；theperfectionofform，thesimplefactofform，ravishedandalwayswillravishmeaway。Inthisliestheoutcomeandendofallthelovelinessofsunshineandgreenleaf，offlowers，purewater，andsweetair。Thisisembodimentandhighestex—pression；thescattered，uncertain，anddesignlesslovelinessoftreeandsunlightbroughttoshape。ThroughthisbeautyIprayeddeepestandlongest，anddowntothishour。Theshape——thedivineideaofthatshape——theswellingmuscleorthedreamylimb，strongsineworcurveofbust，AphroditeorHercules，itisthesame。ThatImayhavethesoul—life，thesoul—nature，letdivinebeautybringtomedivinesoul。SwartNubian，whiteGreek，delicateItalian，massiveScandinavian，inalltheexquisitepleasuretheformgave，andgives，tomeimmediatelybecomesintenseprayer。
　　IfIcouldhavebeeninphysicalshapelikethese，howdespicableincomparisonIam；tobeshapelyofformissoinfinitelybeyondwealth，power，fame，allthatambitioncangive，thatthesearedustbeforeit。Unlessofthehumanform，nopicturesholdme；
　　therestareflatsurfaces。So，too，withtheotherarts，theyaredead；thepotters，thearchitects，meaningless，stony，andsomerepellent，likethecoldtouchofporcelain。Noprayerwiththese。Onlythehumanforminartcouldraiseit，andmostinstatuary。Ihaveseensolittlegoodstatuary，itisaregrettome；still，thatIhaveisbeyondallotherart。Fragmentshere，abustyonder，thebrokenpiecesbroughtfromGreece，copies，plastercasts，amemoryofanAphrodite，ofaPersephone，ofanApollo，thatisall；butevendrawingsofstatuarywillraisetheprayer。
　　Thesestatueswerelikemyselffullofathought，foreverabouttoburstforthasabud，yetsilentinthesameattitude。
　　Givemetolivethesoul—lifetheyexpress。ThesmallestfragmentofmarblecarvedintheshapeofthehumanarmwillwakethedesireIfeltinmyhill—prayer。
　　Timewenton；goodfortuneandsuccessneverforaninstantdeceivedmethattheywereinthemselvestobesought；onlymysoul—thoughtwasworthy。Furtheryearsbringingmuchsuffering，grindingtheverylifeout；newtroubles，renewedinsults，lossofwhathardlabourhadearned，thebitterquestion：Isitnotbettertoleapintothesea？These，too，havemadenoimpression；constantstilltotheformerprayermymindendures。
　　ItwasmychiefregretthatIhadnotendeavouredtowritethesethings，togiveexpressiontothispassion。Iamnowtrying，butIseethatIshallonlyinpartsucceed。
　　Thesameprayercomestomeatthisveryhour。Itisnowlesssolelyassociatedwiththesunandsea，hills，woods，orbeauteoushumanshape。Itisalwayswithin。Itrequiresnowaking；norenewal；itisalwayswithme。Iamit；thefactofmyexistenceexpressesit。AfteralongintervalIcametothehillsagain，thistimebythecoast。
　　Ifoundadeephollowonthesideofagreathill，agreenconcaveopeningtothesea，whereIcouldrestandthinkinperfectquiet。Behindmewerefurzebushesdriedbytheheat；immediatelyinfrontdroppedthesteepdescentofthebowl—likehollowwhichreceivedandbroughtuptomethefaintsoundofthesummerwaves。Yonderlaytheimmenseplainofsea，thepalestgreenunderthecontinuedsunshine，asthoughtheheathadevaporatedthecolourfromit；therewasnodistincthorizon，aheat—mistincloseditandlookedfartherawaythanthehorizonwouldhavedone。Silenceandsunshine，seaandhillgraduallybroughtmymindintotheconditionofintenseprayer。Dayafterday，forhoursatatime，Icamethere，mysoul—desirealwaysthesame。PresentlyIbegantoconsiderhowIcouldputapartofthatprayerintoform，givingitanobject。CouldIbringitintosuchashapeaswouldadmitofactuallyworkinguponthelinesitindicatedforanygood？
　　Oneevening，whenthebrightwhitestarinLyrawasshiningalmostatthezenithoverme，andthedeepconcavewasthemoreprofoundinthedusk，Iformulateditintothreedivisions。
　　First，IdesiredthatImightdoorfindsomethingtoexaltthesoul，somethingtoenableittoliveitsownlife，amorepowerfulexistencenow。Secondly，Idesiredtobeabletodosomethingfortheflesh，tomakeadiscoveryorperfectamethodbywhichthefleshlybodymightenjoymorepleasure，longerlife，andsufferlesspain。Thirdly，toconstructamoreflexibleenginewithwhichtocarryintoexecutionthedesignofthewill。IcalledthistheLyraprayer，todistinguishitfromthefardeeperemotioninwhichthesoulwasaloneconcerned。
　　Ofthethreedivisions，thelastwasofsolittleimportancethatitscarcelydeservedtobenamedinconjunctionwiththeothers。Mechanismincreasesconvenience——innodegreedoesitconferphysicalormoralperfection。Therudimentaryenginesemployedthousandsofyearsagoinraisingbuildingswereinthatrespectequaltothecomplicatedmachinesofthepresentday。Controlofironandsteelhasnotalteredorimprovedthebodilyman。Ievendebatedsometimewhethersuchathirddivisionshouldbeincludedatall。Ourbodiesarenowconveyedallroundtheworldwithease，butobtainnoadvantage。Astheystartsotheyreturn。Themostperfecthumanfamiliesofancienttimeswerealmoststationary，asthoseofGreece。PerfectionofformwasfoundinSparta；howsmallaspotcomparedtothosecontinentsoverwhichwearenowtakensoquickly!Suchperfectionofformmightperhapsagaindwell，contentedandcompleteinitself，onsuchastripoflandasIcouldseebetweenmeandthesandofthesea。Again，awatchkeepingcorrecttimeisnoguaranteethatthebearershallnotsufferpain。Theownerofthewatchmaybesoulless，withoutmind—fire，amerecreature。Nobenefittotheheartortothebodyaccruesfromthemostaccuratemechanism。
　　HenceIdebatedwhetherthethirddivisionshouldbeincluded。
　　ButIreflectedthattimecannotbeputbackonthedial，wecannotreturntoSparta；thereisanexistentstateofthings，andexistentmultitudes；andpossiblyamorepowerfulengine，flexibletothewill，mightgivethemthatfreedomwhichistheone，andtheoneonly，politicalorsocialideaIpossess。Forliberty，therefore，letitbeincluded。
　　Fortheflesh，thisarmofmine，thelimbsofothersgracefullymoving，letmefindsomethingthatwillgivethemgreaterper—
　　fection。Thatthebonesmaybefirmer，somewhatlargerifthatwouldbeanadvantage，certainlystronger，thatthecartilageandsinewsmaybemoreenduring，andthemusclesmorepowerful，somethingafterthemannerofthoseideallimbsandmusclessculpturedofold，theseinthefleshandreal。Thattheorgansofthebodymaybestrongerintheiraction，perfect，andlasting。Thattheexteriorfleshmaybeyetmorebeautiful；thattheshapemaybefiner，andthemotionsgraceful。ThesearethesoberestwordsIcanfind，purposelychosen；forIamsoraptinthebeautyofthehumanform，andsoearnestly，soinexpressibly，prayerfultoseethatformperfect，thatmyfullthoughtisnottobewritten。Unabletoexpressitfully，Ihaveconsidereditbesttoputitinthesimplestmannerofwords。Ibelieveinthehumanform；letmefindsomething，somemethod，bywhichthatformmayachievetheutmostbeauty。Itsbeautyislikeanarrow，whichmaybeshotanydistanceaccordingtothestrengthofthebow。Sotheideaexpressedinthehumanshapeiscapableofindefiniteexpansionandelevationofbeauty。
　　Ofthemind，theinnerconsciousness，thesoul，myprayerdesiredthatImightdiscoveramodeoflifeforit，sothatitmightnotonlyconceiveofsuchalife，butactuallyenjoyitontheearth。Iwishedtosearchoutanewandhighersetofideasonwhichthemindshouldwork。Thesimileofanewbookofthesoulisthenearesttoconveythemeaning——abookdrawnfromthepresentandfuture，notthepast。Insteadofasetofideasbasedontradition，letmegivethemindanewthoughtdrawnstraightfromthewondrouspresent，directthisveryhour。Next，tofurnishthesoulwiththemeansofexecutingitswill，ofcarryingthoughtintoaction。Inotherwords，forthesoultobecomeapower。ThesethreeformedtheLyraprayer，ofwhichthetwofirstareimmeasurablytheinmoreimportant。Ibelieveinthehumanbeing，mindandflesh；formandsoul。
　　IthappenedjustafterwardsthatIwenttoPevensey，andimmediatelytheancientwallsweptmymindbackseventeenhundredyearstotheeagle，thepilum，andtheshortsword。Thegreystones，thethinredbrickslaidbythosewhoseeyeshadseenCaesar’sRome，liftedmeoutofthegraspofhouse—life，ofmoderncivilisation，ofthoseminutiaewhichoccupythemoment。ThegreystonemademefeelasifIhadexistedfromthentillnow，sostronglydidIenterintoandseemyownlifeasifreflected。Myownexistencewasfocusedbackonme；
　　Isawitsjoy，itsunhappiness，itsbirth，itsdeath，itspossibilitiesamongtheinfinite，aboveallitsyearningQuestion。Why？Seeingitthusclearly，andliftedoutofthemomentbytheforceofseventeencenturies，Irecognisedthefullmysteryandthedepthsofthingsintherootsofthedrygrassonthewall，inthegreenseaflowingnear。IsthereanythingIcando？Themysteryandthepossibilitiesarenotintherootsofthegrass，noristhedepthofthingsinthesea；theyareinmyexistence，inmysoul。Themarvelofexistence，almosttheterrorofit，wasflungonmewithcrushingforcebythesea，thesunshining，thedistanthills。Withalltheirponderousweighttheymademefeelmyself：allthetime，allthecenturiesmademefeelmyselfthismomentahundred—fold。I
　　determinedthatIwouldendeavourtowritewhatIhadsolongthoughtof，andthesameeveningputdownonesentence。Therethesentenceremainedtwoyears。Itriedtocarryiton；IhesitatedbecauseIcouldnotexpressit：norcanInow，thoughindesperationIamthrowingtheserudestonesofthoughttogether，rudeasthoseoftheancientwall。
　　CHAPTERIII
　　THEREweregrass—growntumulionthehillstowhichofoldIusedtowalk，sitdownatthefootofoneofthem，andthink。Somewarriorhadbeeninterredthereintheantehistorictimes。Thesunofthesummermorningshoneonthedomeofsward，andtheaircamesoftlyupfromthewheatbelow，thetipsofthegrassesswayedasitpassedsighingfaintly，itceased，andthebeeshummedbytothethymeandheathbells。Ibecameabsorbedinthegloryoftheday，thesunshine，thesweetair，theyellowingcornturningfromitssappygreentosummer’snoonofgold，thelark’ssonglikeawaterfallinthesky。IfeltatthatmomentthatIwaslikethespiritofthemanwhosebodywasinterredinthetumulus；Icouldunderstandandfeelhisexistencethesameasmyown。HewasasrealtometwothousandyearsafterintermentasthoseIhadseeninthebody。Theabstractpersonalityofthedeadseemedasexistentasthought。Asmythoughtcouldslipbackthetwentycenturiesinamomenttotheforest—dayswhenhehurledthespear，orshotwiththebow，huntingthedeer，andcouldreturnagainasswiftlytothismoment，sohisspiritcouldendurefromthentillnow，andthetimewasnothing。
　　Twothousandyearsbeingasecondtothesoulcouldnotcauseitsextinction。Itwasnolongertothesoulthanmythoughtoccupiedtome。
　　Recognisingmyowninnerconsciousness，thepsyche，soclearly，deathdidnotseemtometoaffectthepersonality。Indissolutiontherewasnobridgelesschasm，nounfathomablegulfofseparation；thespiritdidnotimmediatelybecomeinaccesible，leapingataboundtoanimmeasurabledistance。Lookatanotherpersonwhileliving；
　　thesoulisnotvisible，onlythebodywhichitanimates。Therefore，merelybecauseafterdeaththesoulisnotvisibleisnodemonstrationthatitdoesnotstilllive。
　　Theconditionofbeingunseenisthesameconditionwhichoccurswhilethebodyisliving，sothatintrinsicallythereisnothingexceptionable，orsupernatural，inthelifeofthesoulafterdeath。Restingbythetumulus，thespiritofthemanwhohadbeeninterredtherewastomereallyalive，andveryclose。Thiswasquitenatural，asnaturalandsimpleasthegrasswavinginthewind，thebeeshumming，andthelarks’songs。
　　OnlybythestrongesteffortofthemindcouldIunderstandtheideaofextinction；thatwassupernatural，requiringamiracle；theimmortalityofthesoulnatural，likeearth。ListeningtothesighingofthegrassIfeltimmortalityasIfeltthebeautyofthesummermorning，andIthoughtbeyondimmortality，ofotherconditions，morebeautifulthanexistence，higherthanimmortality。
　　Thatthereisnoknowing，inthesenseofwrittenreasons，whetherthesoullivesonornot，Iamfullyaware。Idonothopeorfear。AtleastwhileIamlivingIhaveenjoyedtheideaofimmortality，andtheideaofmyownsoul。Ifthen，afterdeath，Iamresolvedwithoutexceptionintoearth，air，andwater，andthespiritgoesoutlikeaflame，stillIshallhavehadthegloryofthatthought。
　　Ithappenedoncethatamanwasdrownedwhilebathing，andhisbodywasplacedinanouthousenearthegarden。Ipassedtheouthousecontinually，sometimesonpurposetothinkaboutit，anditalwaysseemedtomethatthemanwasstillliving。
　　Separationisnottobecomprehended；thespiritofthemandidnotappeartohavegonetoaninconceivabledistance。AsmythoughtflashesitselfbackthroughthecenturiestotheluxuryofCanopus，andcanseethegildedcouchesofacityextinct，soitslipsthroughthefuture，andimmeasurabletimeinfrontisnobounandarytoit。Certainlythemanwasnotdeadtome。
　　Sweetlythesummeraircameuptothetumulus，thegrasssighedsoftly，thebutterflieswentby，sometimesalightingonthegreendome。Twothousandyears!Summeraftersummerthebluebutterflieshadvisitedthemound，thethymehadflowered，thewindsighedinthegrass。Theazuremorninghadspreaditsarmsoverthelowtomb；andfullglowingnoonburnedonit；thepurpleofsunsetrosiedthesward。Stars，ruddyinthevapourofthesouthernhorizon，beamedatmidnightthroughthemysticsummernight，whichisduskyandyetfulloflight。Whitemistssweptupandhidit；dewsrestedontheturf；tenderharebellsdrooped；thewingsofthefinchesfannedtheair——fincheswhosecoloursfadedfromthewingshowmanycenturiesago!
　　Brownautumndweltinthewoodsbeneath；therimeofwinterwhitenedthebeechclumpontheridge；againthebudscameonthewind—blownhawthornbushes，andintheeveningthebroadconstellationofOrioncoveredtheeast。Twothousandtimes!Twothousandtimesthewoodsgrewgreen，andring—dovesbuilttheirnests。Dayandnightfortwothousandyears——lightandshadowsweepingoverthemound——twothousandyearsoflabourbydayandslumberbynight。Mysterygleaminginthestars，pouringdowninthesunshine，speakinginthenight，thewonderofthesunandoffarspace，fortwentycenturiesroundaboutthislowandgreen—growndome。YetallthatmysteryandwonderisasnothingtotheThoughtthatliestherein，tothespiritthatIfeelsoclose。
　　Realisingthatspirit，recognisingmyowninnerconsciousness，thepsyche，soclearly，Icannotunderstandtime。Itiseternitynow。Iaminthemidstofit。Itisaboutmeinthesunshine；Iaminit，asthebutterflyfloatsinthelight—ladenair。Nothinghastocome；itisnow。Nowiseternity；nowistheimmortallife。Herethismoment，bythistumulus，onearth，now；Iexistinit。Theyears，thecenturies，thecyclesareabsolutelynothing；itisonlyamomentsincethistumuluswasraised；inathousandyearsitwillstillbeonlyamoment。Tothesoulthereisnopastandnofuture；allisandwillbeever，innow。Forartificialpurposestimeismutuallyagreedon，butisreallynosuchthing。Theshadowgoesonuponthedial，theindexmovesroundupontheclock，andwhatisthedifference？Nonewhatever。Iftheclockhadneverbeensetgoing，whatwouldhavebeenthedifference？
　　Theremaybetimefortheclock，theclockmaymaketimeforitself；thereisnoneforme。
　　Idipmyhandinthebrookandfeelthestream；inaninstanttheparticlesofwaterwhichfirsttouchedmehavefloatedyardsdownthecurrent，myhandremainsthere。Itakemyhandaway，andtheflow——thetime——ofthebrookdoesnotexisttome。
　　Thegreatclockofthefirmament，thesunandthestars，thecrescentmoon，theearthcirclingtwothousandtimes，isnomoretomethantheflowofthebrookwhenmyhandiswithdrawn；mysoulhasneverbeen，andnevercanbe，dippedintime。Timehasneverexisted，andneverwill；itisapurelyartificialarrangement。Itiseternitynow，italwayswaseternity，andalwayswillbe。BynopossiblemeanscouldIgetintotimeifItried。Iamineternitynowandmustthereremain。Hastenot，beatrest，thisNowiseternity。Becausetheideaoftimehasleftmymind——ifeverithadanyholdonit——tomethemaninterredinthetumulusislivingnowasIlive。
　　Wearebothineternity。
　　Thereisnoseparation—nopast；eternity，theNow，iscontinuous。WhenallthestarshaverevolvedtheyonlyproduceNowagain。ThecontinuityofNowisforever。Sothatitappearstomepurelynatural，andnotsupernatural，thatthesoulwhosetemporaryframewasinterredinthismoundshouldbeexistingasIsitonthesward。Howinfinitelydeeperisthoughtthanthemillionmilesofthefirmament!Thewonderishere，notthere；now，nottobe，nowalways。Thingsthathavebeenmiscalledsupernaturalappeartomesimple，morenaturalthannature，thanearth，thansea，orsun。ItisbeyondtellingmorenaturalthatIshouldhaveasoulthannot，thatthereshouldbeimmortality；Ithinkthereismuchmorethanimmortality。Itismatterwhichisthesupernatural，anddifficultofunder—standing。WhythisclodofearthIholdinmyhand？Whythiswaterwhichdropssparklingfrommyfingersdippedinthebrook？
　　Whyaretheyatall？When？How？Whatfor？Matterisbeyondunderstanding，mysterious，impenetrable；Itouchiteasily，comprehendit，no。Soul，mind——thethought，theidea——iseasilyunderstood，itunderstandsitselfandisconscious。
　　Thesupernaturalmiscalled，thenaturalintruth，isthereal。
　　Tomeeverythingissupernatural。Howstrangethatconditionofmindwhichcannotacceptanythingbuttheearth，thesea，thetangibleuniverse!
　　Withoutthemisnamedsupernaturalthesetomeseemincomplete，unfinished。
　　Withoutsoulallthesearedead。ExceptwhenIwalkbythesea，andmysoulisbyit，theseaisdead。Thoseseasbywhichnomanhasstood——whichnosoulhasbeen——whetheronearthortheplanets，aredead。Nomatterhowmajestictheplanetrollsinspace，unlessasoulbethereitisdead。AsI
　　moveaboutinthesunshineIfeelinthemidstofthesupernatural：inthemidstofimmortalthings。Itisimpossibbletowresttheminddowntothesamelawsthatrulepiecesoftimber，water，orearth。Theydonotcontrolthesoul，howeverrigidlytheymaybindmatter。SofullamIalwaysofasenseoftheimmortalitynowatthismomentroundaboutme，thatitwouldnotsurprisemeintheleastifacircumstanceoutsidephysicalexperienceoccurred。Itwouldseemtomequitenatural。Givethesoulthepoweritconceives，andtherewouldbenothingwonderfulinit。
　　Icanseenothingastonishinginwhatarecalledmiracles。
　　Onlythosewhoaremesmerisedbymattercanfindadifficultyinsuchevents。Iamawarethattheevidenceformiraclesislogicallyandhistoricallyuntrustworthy；Iamnotdefendingrecordedmiracles。MypointisthatinprincipleIseenoreasonatallwhytheyshouldnottakeplacethisday。Idonotevensaythatthereareoreverhavebeenmiracles，butImaintainthattheywouldbeperfectlynatural。Thewonderratheristhattheydonothappenfrequently。Considerthelimitlessconceptionsofthesoul：letitpossessbutthepowertorealisethoseconceptionsforonehour，andhowlittle，howtriflingwouldbethehelpingoftheinjuredorthesicktoregainhealthandhappiness——merelytothinkit。Asoul—workwouldrequirebutathought。
　　Soul—workisanexpressionbettersuitedtomymeaningthan"miracle，"atermlikeothersintowhichaspecialsensehasbeeninfused。
　　WhenIconsiderthatIdwellthismomentintheeternalNowthathaseverbeenandwillbe，thatIaminthemidstofimmortalthingsthismoment，thatthereprobablyareSoulsasinfinitelysuperiortomineasminetoapieceoftimber，whatthen，pray，isa"miracle"？Ascommonlyunderstood，a"miracle"isamerenothing。Icanconceivesoul—worksdonebysimplewillorthoughtathousandtimesgreater。
　　Imarvelthattheydonothappenthismoment。Theair，thesunlight，thenight，allthatsurroundsmeseemscrowdedwithinexpressiblepowers，withtheinfluenceofSouls，orexistences，sothatIwalkinthemidstofimmortalthings。Imyselfamalivingwitnessofit。
　　SometimesIhaveconcentratedmyself，anddrivenawaybycontinuedwillallsenseofoutwardappearances，lookingstraightwiththefullpowerofmymindinwardsonmyself。
　　Ifind"I"amthere；an"I"Idonotwhollyunderstand，orknow——somethingistheredistinctfromearthandtimber，fromfleshandbones。Recognisingit，Ifeelonthemarginofalifeunknown，verynear，almosttouchingit：
　　onthevergeofpowerswhichifIcouldgraspwouldgivemeanimmensebreadthofexistence，anabilitytoexecutewhatInowonlyconceive；mostprobablyoffarmorethanthat。Toseethat"I"istoknowthatIamsurroundedwithimmortalthings。If，whenIdie，that"I"alsodies，andbecomesextinct，stilleventhenIhavehadtheexaltationoftheseideas。
　　Howmanywordsithastakentodescribesobrieflythefeelingsandthethoughtsthatcametomebythetumulus；thoughtsthatsweptpastandweregone，andweresucceededbyotherswhileyettheshadowofthemoundhadnotmovedfromonethymeflowertoanother，notthebreadthofagrassblade。Softlybreathedthesweetsouthwind，gentlytheyellowcornwavedbeneath；theancient，ancientsunshoneonthefreshgrassandtheflower，myheartopenedwideasthebroad，broadearth。Ispreadmyarmsout，layingthemonthesward，seizingthegrass，totakethefulnessofthedays。CouldIhavemyownwayafterdeathIwouldbeburnedonapyreofpine—wood，opentotheair，andplacedonthesummitofthehills。Thenletmyashesbescatteredabroad——notcollectedurnanurn——freelysownwideandbroadcast。Thatisthenaturalintermentofman——ofmanwhoseThoughtatleasthasbeenamongtheimmortals；intermentintheelements。Burialisnotenough，itdoesnotgivesufficientsolutionintotheelementsspeedily；afurnaceisconfined。Thehighopenairofthetopmosthill，thereletthetawnyflamelickupthefragmentcalledthebody；therecasttheashesintothespaceitlongedforwhileliving。Suchaluxuryofintermentisonlyforthewealthy；IfearIshallnotbeabletoaffordit。Elsethesmokeofmyresolutionintotheelementsshouldcertainlyariseintimeonthehill—top。
　　Thesilkygrasssighsasthewindcomescarryingthebluebutterflymorerapidlythanhiswings。Alargehumble—beeburrsroundthegreendomeagainstwhichIrest；myhandsarescentedwiththyme。Thesweetnessoftheday，thefulnessoftheearth，thebeauteousearth，howshallIsayit？
　　Threethingsonlyhavebeendiscoveredofthatwhichconcernstheinnerconsciousnesssincebeforewrittenhistorybegan。Threethingsonlyintwelvethousandwritten，orsculptured，years，andinthedumb，dimtimebeforethen。ThreeideastheCavemenprimevalwrestedfromtheunknown，thenightwhichisroundusstillindaylight——theexistenceofthesoul，im—
　　mortality，thedeity。Thesethingsfound，prayerfollowedasasequentialresult。Sincethennothingfurtherhasbeenfoundinallthetwelvethousandyears，asifmenhadbeensatisfiedandhadfoundthesetosuffice。Theydonotsufficeme。Idesiretoadvancefurther，andtowrestafourth，andevenstillmorethanafourth，fromthedarknessofthought。Iwantmoreideasofsoul—life。Iamcertainthattherearemoreyettobefound。Agreatlife——anentirecivilisation——liesjustoutsidethepaleofcommonthought。
　　Citiesandcountries，inhabitants，intelligences，culture——anentirecivilisation。Exceptbyillustrationsdrawnfromfamiliarthings，thereisnowayofindicatinganewidea。Idonotmeanactualcities，actualcivilisation。
　　Suchlifeisdifferentfromanyyetimagined。Anexusofideasexistsofwhichnothingisknown——avastsystemofideas——acosmosofthought。ThereisanEntity，aSoul—Entity，asyetunrecognised。These，rudelyexpressed，constitutemyFourthIdea。Itisbeyond，orbeside，thethreediscoveredbytheCavemen；itisinadditiontotheexistenceofthesoul；inadditiontoimmortality；andbeyondtheideaofthedeity。Ithinkthereissomethingmorethanexistence。
　　Thereisanimmenseoceanoverwhichthemindcansail，uponwhichthevesselofthoughthasnotyetbeenlaunched。Ihopetolaunchit。Themindofsomanythousandyearshasworkedroundandroundinsidethecircleofthesethreeideasasaboatonaninlandlake。Letushaulitoverthebeltofland，launchontheocean，andsailoutwards。
　　Thereissomuchbeyondallthathaseveryetbeenimagined。
　　AsIwritethesewords，intheverymoment，Ifeelthatthewholeair，thesunshineoutyonderlightinguptheploughedearth，thedistantsky，thecircumambientether，andthatfarspace，isfullofsoul—secrets，soul—life，thingsoutsidetheexperienceofalltheages。ThefactofmyownexistenceasIwrite，asIexistatthissecond，issomarvellous，somiracle—like，strange，andsupernaturaltome，thatIunhesitatinglyconcludeIamalwaysonthemarginoflifeillimitable，andthattherearehigherconditionsthanexistence。Everythingaroundissupernatural；everythingsofullofunexplainedmeaning。
　　TwelvethousandyearssincetheCavemanstoodatthemouthofhiscavernandgazedoutatthenightandthestars。Helookedagainandsawthesunrisebeyondthesea。Hereposedinthenoontideheatundertheshadeofthetrees，heclosedhiseyesandlookedintohimself。Hewasfacetofacewiththeearth，thesun，thenight；facetofacewithhimself。Therewasnothingbetween；nowallofwrittentradition；nobuiltupsystemofculture——hisnakedmindwasconfrontedbynakedearth。Hemadethreeidea—discoveries，wrestingthemfromtheunknown；theexistenceofhissoul，immortality，thedeity。Now，to—day，asIwrite，IstandinexactlythesamepositionastheCaveman。
　　Writtentradition，systemsofculture，modesofthought，haveformenoexistence。Ifevertheytookanyholdofmyminditmusthavebeenveryslight；theyhavelongagobeenerased。
　　>Fromearthandseaandsun，fromnight，thestars，fromday，thetrees，thehills，frommyownsoul——fromtheseIthink。I
　　standthismomentatthemouthoftheancientcave，facetofacewithnature，facetofacewiththesupernatural，withmyself。Mynakedmindconfrontstheunknown。Iseeasclearlyasthenoondaythatthisisnotall；
　　Iseeotherandhigherconditionsthanexistence；Iseenotonlytheexistenceofthesoul，immortality，but，inaddition，Irealiseasoul—lifeillimitable；Irealisetheexistenceofacosmosofthought；I
　　realisetheexistenceofaninexpressibleentityinfinitelyhigherthandeity。IstrivetogiveutterancetoaFourthIdea。
　　Theveryideathatthereisanotherideaissomethinggained。
　　ThethreefoundbytheCavemenarebutsteppingstones：firstlinksofanendlesschain。Atthemouthoftheancientcave，facetofacewiththeunknown，theyprayed。Proneinheartto—
　　dayIpray，Givemethedeepestsoul—life。
　　CHAPTERIV
　　THEwindsighsthroughthegrass，sighsinthesunshine；ithasdriftedthebutterflyeastwardsalongthehill。Afewyardsawaythereliestheskullofalambontheturf，whiteandbleached，pickedcleanlongsincebycrowsandants。Likethefaintrippleofthesummerseasoundinginthehollowoftheear，sothesweetairripplesinthegrass。Theashesofthemaninterredinthetumuiusareindistinguishable；theyhavesunkawaylikerainintotheearth；sohisbodyhasdisappeared。
　　Iamundernodelusion；Iamfullyawarethatnodemonstrationcanbegivenofthethreestepping—stonesoftheCavemen。Thesoulisinscrutable；itisnotinevidencetoshowthatitexists；immortalityisnottangible。FullwellIknowthatreasonandknowledgeandexperiencetendtodisproveallthree；
　　thatexperiencedeniesanswertoprayer。Iamundernodelusionwhatever；IgraspdeathfirmlyinconceptionasIcangraspthisbleachedbone；utterextinction，annihilation。Thatthesoulisaproductatbestoforganiccomposition；thatitgoesoutlikeaflame。Thismaybetheend；mysoulmaysinklikerainintotheearthanddisappear。Windandearth，sea，andnightandday，whatthen？Letmysoulbebutaproduct，whatthen？Isayitisnothingtome；thisonlyIknow，thatwhileIhavelived——now，thismoment，whileI
　　live——Ithinkimmortality，IliftmymindtoaFourthIdea。IfIpassintoutteroblivion，yetIhavehadthat。
　　TheoriginalthreeideasoftheCavemenbecameencumberedwithsuperstition；ritualgrewup，andceremony，andlongranksofsoulswerepaintedonpapyriwaitingtobeweighedinthescales，andtobepunishedorrewarded。Thesecobwebsgrotesquehavesulliedtheoriginaldiscoveriesandcastthemintodiscredit。Erasethemaltogether，andconsideronlytheunderlyingprinciples。Theprinciplesdonotgofarenough，butIshallnotdiscardallofthemforthat。Evensupposingthepureprinciplestobeillusions，andannihilationtheend，eventhenitisbetter——itissomethinggainedtohavethoughtthem。Thoughtislife；tohavethoughtthemistohavelivedthem。
　　Acceptingtwoofthemastrueinprinciple，thenIsaythatthesearebutthethreshold。Fortwelvethousandyearsnoefforthasbeenmadetogetbeyondthatthreshold。Thesearebuttheprimerofsoul—life；themeresthieroglyphicschippedout，alittleshapegiventotheunknown。
　　Notto—morrowbutto—day。Nottheto—morrowofthetumulus，thehourofthesunshinenow。Thismomentgivemetolivesoul—life，notonlyafterdeath。
　　Nowiseternity，nowIaminthemidstofimmortality；nowthesupernaturalcrowdsaroundme。Openmymind，givemysoultosee，letmeliveitnowonearth，whileIheartheburringofthelargerbees，thesweetairinthegrass，andwatchtheyellowwheatwavebeneathme。Sunandearthandsea，nightandday——thesearetheleastofthings。Givemesoul—life。
　　Thereisnothinghumaninnature。Theearth，thoughlovedsodearly，wouldletmeperishontheground，andneitherbringforthfoodnorwater。Burningintheskythegreatsun，ofwhosecompanyIhavebeensofond，wouldmerelyburnonandmakenomotiontoassistme。Thosewhohavebeeninanopenboatatseawithoutwaterhaveprovedthemerciesofthesun，andofthedeitywhodidnotgivethemonedropofrain，dyinginmiseryunderthesameraysthatsmilesobeautifullyontheflowers。Inthesouththesunistheenemy；nightandcoolnessandrainarethefriendsofman。Asforthesea，itoffersussaltwaterwhichwecannotdrink。Thetreescarenothingforus；thehillIvisitedsooftenindaysgonebyhasnotmissedme。Thesunscorchesman，andwillinghisnakedstateroasthimalive。Theseaandthefreshwateralikemakenoefforttoupholdhimifhisvesselfounders；hecastsuphisarmsinvain，theycometotheirleveloverhishead，fillingthespothisbodyoccupied。Ifhefallsfromaclifftheairparts；theearthbeneathdasheshimtopieces。
　　Waterhecandrink，butitisnotproducedforhim；howmanythousandshaveperishedforwantofit？Somefruitsareproducedwhichhecaneat，buttheydonotproducethemselvesforhim；merelyforthepurposeofcontinuingtheirspecies。Inwild，tropicalcountries，atthefirstglancethereappearstobesomeconsiderationforhim，butitisonthesurfaceonly。Thelionpouncesonhim，therhinoceroscrusheshim，theserpentbites，insectstorture，diseasesrackhim。Diseaseworkeditsdrearywillevenamongtheflower—crownedPolynesians。Returningtoourowncountry，thisverythymewhichscentsmyfingersdidnotgrowforthatpurpose，butforitsown。Sodoesthewheatbeneath；weutiliseit，butitsoriginalandnativepurposewasforitself。Bynightitisthesameasbyday；thestarscarenot，theypursuetheircoursesrevolving，andwearenothingtothem。Thereisnothinghumaninthewholeroundofnature。
　　Allnature，alltheuniversethatwecansee，isabsolutelyindifferenttous，andexcepttoushumanlifeisofnomorevaluethangrass。Iftheentirehumanraceperishedatthishour，whatdifferencewoulditmaketotheearth？Whatwouldtheearthcare？Asmuchasfortheextinctdodo，orforthefateoftheelephantnowgoing。
　　Onthecontrary，agreatpart，perhapsthewhole，ofnatureandoftheuniverseisdistinctlyanti—human。Theterminhumandoesnotexpressmymeaning，anti—humanisbetter；outre—human，inthesenseofbeyond，outside，almostgrotesqueinitsattitudetowards，wouldnearlyconveyit。Everythingisanti—human。Howextraordinary，strange，andincomprehensiblearethecreaturescapturedoutofthedepthsofthesea!Thedistortedfishes；theghastlycuttles；thehideouseel—likeshapes；thecrawlingshell—encrustedthings；
　　thecentipede—likebeings；monstrousforms，toseewhichgivesashocktothebrain。Theyshockthemindbecausetheyexhibitanabsenceofdesign。Thereisnoideainthem。
　　Theyhavenoshape，form，grace，orpurpose；theycallupavaguesenseofchaos，chaoswhichthemindrevoltsfrom。Itwouldbearelieftothethoughtiftheyceasedtobe，andutterlydisappearedfromthesea。Theyarenotinimicalofintenttowardsman，noteventheshark；buttherethesharkis，andthatisenough。Thesemiserablyhideousthingsoftheseaarenotanti—humaninthesenseofpersecution，theyareoutside，theyareultraandbeyond。Itislikelookingintochaos，anditisvividbecausethesecreatures，interredaliveahundredfathomsdeep，areseldomseen；sothatthemindseesthemasifonlythatmomenttheyhadcomeintoexistence。Usehasnothabituatedittothem，sothattheiranti—humancharacterisatonceapparent，andstaresatuswithglassyeye。
　　Butitisthesameinrealitywiththecreaturesontheearth。
　　Therearesomeoftheseevennowtowhichusehasnotaccus—
　　tomedthemind。Such，forinstance，asthetoad。Atitsshapelessshapeappearinginanunexpectedcornermanypeoplestartandexclaim。Theyareawarethattheyshallreceivenoinjuryfromit，yetitaffrightsthem，itsendsashocktothemind。Thereasonliesinitsobviouslyanti—humancharacter。
　　Allthedesignless，formlesschaosofchance—directedmatter，withoutideaorhumanplan，squatsthereembodiedinthepathway。Bywatchingthecreature，andconvincingthemindfromobservationthatitisharmless，andevenhasuses，thehorrorwearsaway。Butstillremainstheformtowhichthemindcanneverreconcileitself。Carvedinwooditisstillrepellent。
　　Orsuddenlythereisarustlelikeafainthissinthegrass，andagreensnakeglidesoverthebank。Thebreathinthechestseemstoloseitsvitality；foraninstantthenervesrefusetotransmittheforceoflife。Theglidingyellow—streakedwormissoutterlyopposedtotheeverpresentIdeainthemind。Custommayreducethehorror，butnolongponderingcaneverbringthatcreaturewithinthepaleofthehumanIdea。Thesearesodistinctlyoppositeandanti—humanthatthousandsofyearshavenotsufficedtosoftentheiroutline。Variousinsectsandcreepingcreaturesexcitethesamesenseinlesserdegrees。
　　Animalsandbirdsingeneraldonot。Thetigerisdreaded，butcausesnodisgust。Theexceptionisinthosethatfeedonoffal。Horsesanddogswelove；wenotonlydonotrecogniseanythingoppositeinthem，wecometolovethem。
　　Theyareusefultous，theyshowmoreorlesssympathywithus，theypossess，especiallythehorse，acertaingraceofmovement。
　　Agloss，asitwere，isthrownoverthembytheseattributesandbyfamiliarity。Theshapeofthehorsetotheeyehasbecomeconventional：itisaccepted。Yetthehorseisnotinanysensehuman。Couldwelookatitsuddenly，withoutpreviousacquaintance，asatstrangefishesinatank，theultra—humancharacterofthehorsewouldbeapparent。Itisthecurvesoftheneckandbodythatcarrythehorsepastwithoutadversecomment。Examinethehindlegsindetail，andthecuriousbackwardmotion，theshapeandanti—humancurvesbecomeapparent。
　　Dogstakeusbytheirintelligence，buttheyhavenohand；passthehandoverthedog’shead，andtheshapeoftheskulltothesenseoffeelingisalmostasrepellentastheformofthetoadtothesenseofsight。Wehavegraduallygatheredaroundusallthecreaturesthatarelessmarkedlyanti—human，horsesanddogsandbirds，buttheyarestillthemselves。Theyoriginallyexistedlikethewheat，forthemselves；weutilisethem，buttheyarenotofus。