This is the experience of dying.

If you have inhaled the perfume of a flower, but have never seen one—

If you have read musical notes, but have never heard them expressed—

If you have dreamed a dream of loveliness, but never saw it embodied or impersonated—

If you have thought of love, but never loved—

You can imagine what the mortal state is compared to the immortal—

Awake—

Alive—

Active.

The dull lethargy of pain and suffering departing, as with a breath, and the strong strength of active life, with its full vigour, surging around, above, beneath—

The ineffable rest, floating out into an infinity of certainty, while all material things, save love and consciousness, seem evanescent—

This is the experience.