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He scarcely noticed in what direction he walked or what road he took, indulging in a careless, delicious daydream full of dolce far niente delights. He had fixed his eyes upon the ground and was sauntering leisurely along when, all at once, he became conscious that some one was approaching. He hastily looked up.
The complex harmony of sights and sounds slid softly over his soul, and he sank away into a still daydream, too passive for imagination, too deep for meditation, and 'Beauty born of murmuring sound, Did pass into his face. Blame him not. There are more things in a man's heart than ever get in through his thoughts. On a sudden, a soft voice behind him startled him.
The peasant inhabitants, returned to a state of savagery, no longer understood the meaning of words, and could be roused out of their apathy only by the display of a silver coin. Seizing the coin, they would hand over the keys. For hours one could browse around at ease among the ruins, and smoke and daydream. Unfortunately, certain parts were inaccessible.
When the big mammy cook they always have 'em in the books came to the door, we'd just look at her and say, 'We're hungry." Silvey nodded, content to revel in the glories of the daydream which John's more vivid imagination was spinning. "We'd go all the way down the Mississippi to New Orleans. Maybe we'd catch some alligators to make things exciting, and maybe some big yellow river catfish.
But while I was picturing out for him a magnificent future, imagining the lofty triumphs of his intellect an intellect grand in its achievements and glorious in its possibilities, my beautiful daydream was rudely broken up, and vanished away like the rays of sunset mingling with the shadows of night. My Aunt Mrs.
Yet, after all, let us acknowledge it wiser, if not more sagacious, to follow out one's daydream to its natural consummation, although, if the vision have been worth the having, it is certain never to be consummated otherwise than by a failure. And what of that?
The few scattered trees that had braved the onslaughts of repeated gales listed landward, but the pines sheltered in the hollows of the dunes stood erect and darkly mysterious, their plumes bending idly in the soft wind. It was all a part of the idyl, the daydream, Robert Morton thought, too flawless a thing to last.
In mitigation of sentence I can only urge the day-long preoccupations in which I had been plunged, and the article, suddenly become necessary, which I must begin to write instanter. But at any rate, excuse or no excuse, it is certain that I woke from my daydream to find myself in Rankeillor Street, almost at the foot of the old Craven stairs which, as a bachelor, I had climbed so often.
But she told herself that the daydream had no significance. Once in February when not able to find various pairs of earrings and blaming herself for having lost them somewhere between Tokyo to Tijuana she had engaged herself in comic anecdotes of the boy sneaking into her bedroom in leather gloves and pajamas so that he might mail some of her jewelry to Hispanic Betty before Valentine's Day.
States of mind occur where the self slips out, though vivid consciousness remains. As I sit in my chair and fix my eye on the distance, a daydream or reverie comes over me. I see a picture, another, another. Somebody speaks and I am recalled. "Why, here I am! This is I." I find myself once more. I had lost myself paradoxical yet accurate expression.
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