Vision may sometimes sleep in the sun, while it wakens to widest revelation in utter darkness. Thus I am rapt in a trance-like acceptance of opening cavernous depths, crypts of decyphered gloom, yielding hollows of velvet obscurity that go down, down to the roots of things. – Virginia Garland, “The Rain,” Out West: A Magazine of the Old Pacific and the Ne

What if when you die, they ask “How was heaven?” – Author Unknown

No object is mysterious. The mystery is your eye. – Elizabeth Bowen, The House in Paris, 1935