Others will see the islands large and small;
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half
an hour high.
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others
will see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide, the
falling-back to the sea of the ebb-tide.
It avails not, time nor place—distance avails not,
I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence,
Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt,
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd,
—Walt Whitman (1819–1892)
Shakespeare is one of the last books one should like to give up, perhaps the one just before the Dying Service in a large Prayer book.
—Charles Lamb (1775–1834)
In a normal person the motor and sensory nervous systems act as the windows of the individual personality.... [ellipsis in original] The broken, many-stained and pictorial windows through which the light is struggling under disadvantages to harmonize itself with the physical world at large are found in three classes of persons—the mentally deficient, the morally deficient, and the insane. In these, the light is there, but the images, as in a broken cathedral window, are more or less shattered and confused.
—Margaret Bancroft (1854–1912)