And I imagine space full of life invisible; imagine that the young man needed but the opening of his eyes to see the horses and chariots of fire around his master, an inner circle to the horses and chariots that encompassed the city to take him.

As I came now through the fields, I lost myself for a time in the feeling that I was walking in the midst of lovely people I have known, some in person, some by their books.

Perhaps they were with me--are with me--are speaking to me now.

For if all our thoughts, from whatever source, whether immediately from God, or through ourselves, seem to enter the chamber of our consciousness by the same door, why may it not be so with some that come to us from other beings?
Why may not the dead speak to me, and I be unable to distinguish their words from my thoughts?
The moment a thought is given me, my own thought rushes to mingle with it, and I can no more part them.

Some stray hints from the world beyond may mingle even with the folly and stupidity of my dreams." "But if you cannot distinguish, where is the good ?" Cosmo ventured to ask.
"Nowhere for deductive certainty.