Otherwise, little could you know of the meaning of the things I know so well.

As I write this, all the beings and happenings of that other world rise up before me in vast phantasmagoria, and I know that to you they would be rhymeless and reasonless.
What to you the friendship of Lop-Ear, the warm lure of the Swift One, the lust and the atavism of Red-Eye?
A screaming incoherence and no more.

And a screaming incoherence, likewise, the doings of the Fire People and the Tree People, and the gibbering councils of the horde.

For you know not the peace of the cool caves in the cliffs, the circus of the drinking-places at the end of the day.

You have never felt the bite of the morning wind in the tree-tops, nor is the taste of young bark sweet in your mouth.
It would be better, I dare say, for you to make your approach, as I made mine, through my childhood.