What do I say?
She sends me Greek (of which she does not know a single character), written by her, or rather _through_ her; mystical Greek, from a spirit-world, produced by her hands, she herself not knowing what she writes.

The character is beautifully written, and the separate words are generally correct--such words as 'Christ,' 'God,' 'tears,' 'blood,' 'tempest,' 'sea,' 'thunder,' 'calm,' 'morning,' 'sun,' 'joy.' No grammatical construction hitherto, but a significant sort of grouping of the separate words, as if the meaning were struggling out into coherence.

My idea is that she is being exercised in the language, in the _character_, in order to fuller expression hereafter.

Well, you would have us snowed upon with poppies till we sleep and forget these things.

I, on the contrary, would have our eyes wide open, our senses 'all attentive,' our souls lifted in reverential expectation.