CHAPTER 2.I.Times and Seasons.
Waldo lay on his stomach on the sand.

Since he prayed and howled to his God in the fuel-house three years had passed.
They say that in the world to come time is not measured out by months and years.

Neither is it here.

The soul's life has seasons of its own; periods not found in any calendar, times that years and months will not scan, but which are as deftly and sharply cut off from one another as the smoothly-arranged years which the earth's motion yields us.
To stranger eyes these divisions are not evident; but each, looking back at the little track his consciousness illuminates, sees it cut into distinct portions, whose boundaries are the termination of mental states.
As man differs from man, so differ these souls' years.

The most material life is not devoid of them; the story of the most spiritual is told in them.