Listen, it is something like this: On Quien Sabe, all last week, we have been seeding the earth.
The grain is there now under the earth buried in the dark, in the black stillness, under the clods.

Can you imagine the first--the very first little quiver of life that the grain of wheat must feel after it is sown, when it answers to the call of the sun, down there in the dark of the earth, blind, deaf; the very first stir from the inert, long, long before any physical change has occurred,--long before the microscope could discover the slightest change,--when the shell first tightens with the first faint premonition of life?
Well, it is something as illusive as that." He paused again, dreaming, lost in a reverie, then, just above a whisper, murmured: "'That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die,'...

and she, Angele...

died." "You could not have been mistaken ?" said Presley.

"You were sure that there was something?
Imagination can do so much and the influence of the surroundings was strong.