Not that the work was any trouble to him; on the contrary it was all too ridiculously easy.

It seemed to him the most amazing thing that a description in plain words of what any one might stand and look at, should be called literature.

And yet some times, in his more thoughtful moments, he dimly understood.

He remembered that between him and the multitudes of his fellow-creatures there was a difference.

Everything he saw, he saw through the clear white light.