Poor soul! Surely it would feel itself something shrunken, stripped of warmth, shiveringly bare to all the winds of heaven.

The radiance of the moon usurped the sky, but behind that veil of light the invisible and multitudinous stars were shining.

Beyond those stars were other stars, beyond those yet others; on and on went the stars, wise men said.

Beyond them all, what then?
And where was the place of the soul?
What would it do?
What heaven or hell would it find or make for itself?
Guesswork all! The silver pomp of the night began to be oppressive to him.

There was beauty, but it was a beauty cold and distant, infinitely withdrawn from man and his concerns.