I was a peaceful ocean upon which the ground-swell of a living joy was continually lifting new waves; yet was the joy ever the same joy, the eternal joy, with tens of thousands of changing forms.

Life was a cosmic holiday.
Now I knew that life and truth were one; that life mere and pure is in itself bliss; that where being is not bliss, it is not life, but life-in-death.

Every inspiration of the dark wind that blew where it listed, went out a sigh of thanksgiving.

At last I was! I lived, and nothing could touch my life! My darling walked beside me, and we were on our way home to the Father! So much was ours ere ever the first sun rose upon our freedom: what must not the eternal day bring with it! We came to the fearful hollow where once had wallowed the monsters of the earth: it was indeed, as I had beheld it in my dream, a lovely lake.
I gazed into its pellucid depths.

A whirlpool had swept out the soil in which the abortions burrowed, and at the bottom lay visible the whole horrid brood: a dim greenish light pervaded the crystalline water, and revealed every hideous form beneath it.