“Mind and matter,” said the lady in the wig, “glide swift into the vortex of immensity.
Howls the sublime, and softly sleeps the calm Ideal, in the whispering chambers of Imagination.”
“Mind and matter,” said the lady in the wig, “glide swift into the vortex of immensity.
Howls the sublime, and softly sleeps the calm Ideal, in the whispering chambers of Imagination.”
creation was not a line, but a swell. the waters already restless.