Il m' ecrive ( he wrote ) that the knowledge of our own existence is only faintly grasped as in a dream where the immensity of Time and the infinity of Space are hid behind an ever-changing Mirror --- we view ourselves but do not know what it is that we see . . . it is only with the curtains dropped and our beds resting against the four - sided precipice of the Valley of the unending All , that with eagle's eyes we see for the first time how incredibly close pressed one moment is to the next and how vast and unforgiving is the Past of which we will never know except thru the image and word of others and the Future which is not as a blank Page , but as a Book that is filled and which we must stop reading mid - course . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |