Examining it with his hands, he believed it the same he had ascended in the morning: even in a great castle, could there be two such royal stairs?
He sat down upon it, and leaning his head on his hands, composed himself to a patient waiting for the light.
Waiting pure is perhaps the hardest thing for flesh and blood to do well.

The relations of time to mind are very strange.

Some of their phenomena seem to prove that time is only of the mind--belonging to the intellect as good and evil belong to the spirit.

Anyhow, if it were not for the clocks of the universe, one man would live a year, a century, where another would live but a day.

But the mere motion of time, not to say the consciousness of empty time, is fearful.