It made me feel kind of queer, when I thought of that, as if I didn't have no separate place in the world any more than one of them millions of bottles.

If any one will shut his eyes and say his own name over and over agin fur quite a spell, he will get kind of wonderized and mesmerized a-doing it--he will begin to wonder who the dickens he is, anyhow, and what he is, and what the difference between him and the next feller is.

He will wonder why he happens to be himself and the next feller HIMSELF.

He wonders where himself leaves off and the rest of the world begins.

I been that way myself--all wonderized, so that I felt jest like I was a melting piece of the hull creation, and it was all shifting and drifting and changing and flowing, and not solid anywhere, and I could hardly keep myself from flowing into it.