Oh, but the quickening of the spirit!
I cannot tell you what it is like.
It is like a symphony compared to one note—
Like an oratorio compared to the simplest melody—
Like the poem of Dante—
Like ineffable Milton—
Like the crowning light of Shakspeare—
All-pervading—
All-glorious—
Like love itself that vanquishes the night of time and pain and death.
You are presented to yourself.
Your thoughts—
All of your past life is impersonated.
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