And yet, to me he was not a god, he was only a Taj.

The thrill was not my thrill, but had come to me secondhand from those invisible millions of believers.

By a hand-shake with their god I had ground-circuited their wire and got their monster battery's whole charge.
He was tall and slender, indeed emaciated.

He had a clean cut and conspicuously intellectual face, and a deep and kindly eye.

He looked many years older than he really was, but much study and meditation and fasting and prayer, with the arid life he had led as hermit and beggar, could account for that.