For, while everybody had a different way of
looking, everybody's way--for that particular individual--was exactly
right.
"Smell, then follow," was the secret. "Find your own sign and stick to
it," the clue. Each sign, though by different routes, led straight
towards the marvellous hiding-place. To urge one's own sign upon
another was merely to delay that other; but to point out better signs
of his own particular kind was to send him on faster than before. Thus
there was harmony among them all, for every seeker, knowing this, had
--found himself.
REALITY
X
But, while there was no hurry, no passing, and, most certainly of all,
no passing away, there was a sense of enormous interval. There were
epochs, there were interludes, there was--duration.
Though everything had only just begun, it was yet complete, if not
completed.
At any point of an adventure that adventure could be taken over from
the very start, the experience holding all the thrill and wonder of
the first time.
Cake could be had and eaten too. Tim, half-way down a rabbit-hole,
could instantly find himself at the opening again, bursting with all
the original excitement of trembling calculations.
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